“L’AMOR CHE MOVE IL SOLE E L’ALTRE STELLE”

I love walking into the setting sun

                                                  where nothing is visible but light,

And that not really visible, just a sweet blinding.

Then coming back to the world

Unharmed, but altered slightly,

                            as though it were not the same setup anymore.

And it’s not. The camp robbers are here,

Doughy and black in the dusk-dead trees.

The great wheel has turned a notch,

                                               and I didn’t even hear its soft snick.

The mallards parade on the small pond, the older ones, not the younguns.

Nothing’s as far away as love is,

                                                        not even the new stars,

Though something is moving them

We hope in our direction, albeit their skin’s not on fire.

The child steps out of the dark woods, but is not shining.

Something dies off as my friend.

If I could walk back to that light, I would,

                                                    but it’s buried by now, and gone.