the roosting

 

the roosting

black by black by clack by clack

pairs of crows are fulfilling the roosting tree

and as the evening deepens and darkens

the moon rises slowly riding the fastening day

yon fox gates the way to a midnight feast

a raid on the moon-milk in the cloud’s larder

or to crack an egg on the day’s cold marble there

in the cradle of a dark corner where a rat stirs

tinkle gurgle the thoughts stream away

Into the coffers of the night perchance

replaces the jewel stars that flash no light 

for the night knows no need but shush

haunt me a creaking

run me a riddle faster than faster

for the cat is out of the bag

telling all on the day’s split fence

run

and hide

and slam the door

goodnight perchance

good night now

for the glow of the fire has faded

a flicker of truth fled heavenward

on the blackness of the flue’s final breath

the day dies

it is dead

it is over

but for its dawning 

that may once again 

warm the blackest of our hearts