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Fall of the Evening Star

 Speak softly; sun going down
Out of sight.
Come near me now.
Dear dying fall of wings as birds complain against the gathering dark.
.
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Exaggerate the green blood in grass; the music of leaves scraping space; Multiply the stillness by one sound; by one syllable of your name.
.
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And all that is little is soon giant, all that is rare grows in common beauty To rest with my mouth on your mouth as somewhere a star falls And the earth takes it softly, in natural love.
.
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Exactly as we take each other.
.
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and go to sleep.
.
.

by Kenneth Patchen
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