by Bill Yarrow
the air is a fierce tangerine tonight
my sympathy sails out to snails and dead grass
a thin wind in choir with civilization
is at odds with crickets and owls
squat birds make round sounds
one eyelash hangs on the night
heavy in the monarchy of morning
an ancient wind warms a singed leaf
All rights reserved.
A version of this poem originally appeared in DuPage Arts Life in 2002.