September (Excerpt from a Longer Work in Progress)


How little do we dream

on these sere days

when clarity above all seems within our grasp

that the shadows have crept past the noon mark

and that we have entered the twilight month

the dusk of the year.

Just cresting the horizon

a shade creeps toward the river’s mouth

like the tenth plague to take our first born.

Soon the sharp outlines around us will recede into obscuring haze

Mountainous clouds seep across the land,

to make the morning midnight.

Now we see for the first time

that the infinite blue is a veil

And we can never look at it again without remembering

the day the very sky lied to us.

(c) 2003 Travis Stewart

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