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IV

Sometimes, before nightfall, the slow

Vespertine rupture:

Lapis lazuli

Lost to myriad soft pinks and bruised purple,

A vision the aesthetic eye comprehends

By way of the singing heart or the heartfelt

Pang of cut-and-thrust remembrance.

Dutifully the senses reawaken.

Though the memories are changed like the

Evening sky, reworked by and by

As all transforms all in the striking

Of a moment lost to what once was

And to what is always still becoming.

All fades and there is the darkness

And the calling of the birds no more;

What is lost is left beyond a garden wall.