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.
.
.


Exaggerate the green blood in grass;
the music of leaves scraping space;

Multiply the stillness by one sound;
by one syllable of your name.
.
.


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.
.
.

Exactly as we take each other.
.
.

and go to sleep.
.
.

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