Evenings

I can see the tops
of almond trees tinged
by a setting sun,
a vast column 
of starlings overhead
and hear their whirring wings
as they head home
to roost. Feel
the settle of things,
a slowing down
of movement
into a clumped quiet
from where nervous eyes
look out to see 
what menace wakes.

Then the sad folding
and the putting away
leaving a hollow
fear invades and fills,
a descending sanction
upon the tongue
not to speak
or to make a sound
lest something will be seized
and taken,
becoming no more
than a hole healed over
to a bright render
on the facade
of another day.

evefearfree verse

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