Nightfall

NIGHTFALL. A butter moon is suspended

Among skeletal branches. The undisguised

Loneliness of this solitary silhouette is cast

As a darkened Sōwilō bough, mournful at

The absence of the Sun and the sudden

Loss of solar plenitude. Its desperate fingers,

Full of longing, grasp at the sky like a tangled,

Wooded web and wait for the ecstasy of

The Dawn.

© Troy Southgate