TWILIGHT / DAYLIGHT

By George Amabile

Birds collect on the telephone wires

like blots in a child’s drawing

as bronze bells pulse through the valley

dusk, and seem to ignite

pinpoints of pale fire

that drift in clusters and broken chains

toward the darkening paths

between the courthouse and the church.

Thousands of faces, each one

in the light of its own wavering flame,

stare up at the white cage

of the bandstand.   There will be

no brassy fanfares tonight, no stars

or stripes, there will only be voices

we’ve heard before, not often

enough or in the right

places.  

             On the other side

of the world, it’s morning.  Children

play among rubble, broken

houses, torn up trees.  A small girl

stops.  At her feet, something

she’s always wanted, a bright

yellow ball.  She stoops

and reaches, becomes, briefly, a flower,

a fountain

                 of fire

#darkpoetsclub