The moan of the evening dogs
Who missed the light again
Redeems some missing flicker
Of what never came between
So was not seen
The birds they seem to fly
Towards the disappearing sun
As if, like us, they’re learning
How to trust
The bluing of the trees
As sunset fails its explanation
Reminds us how
What might have been
Is somehow still to happen
Held in darkness
Like the lamps
That dawn at dusk
So hopeful of response
