Effacing hours

 

 

Somewhere near the point
comes immeasurable end.
Winter winds subtend
the fading of the light —
the shortest day in flight —
the slant that shadows lend
in becoming night.

Somewhere near the point:
that region of the air
effacing hours: bare
latitudes of space.
Days go with grace.

 

 

 

 

Language in a Narrow Place:
titles and first lines