The Sun Sets All Ways in the West

The sun sets all ways in the west as the

shadows grow indigo follows the red

as darkness scratches around the garden,

the lilacs close, the calallilies led


to scent.  You sit upon the lawn, wonder

why the clover still stays still, warm and sweet

but underneath the dew whispers,

the petals of the angel’s trumpet sweet


against a crescent rising.

You wait upon the evening star.

An owl hoots, his feathers silent.

A cricket chirps from here to far.


You breathe your wish in one long sigh

to know that in east the sun runs nigh.