Friday, December 21, 2012

Dark islands passing

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Last Day Of The World

An egret will swoop beneath the oaks,
winged with white grace and angelspar,
pass out and over the flatlands below and
no one will see it do so but you and you alone.

A gopher will push earth up and out,
press its head through and tuck back
into its black hole to emerge another
day, perhaps, when this is all over.

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A man will step out into the cool sun,
sip morning coffee and hold the sea
in his eyes, the unworried blue beset
by dark islands passing on the horizon.

A woman will rest her head on her hand,
in France, let’s say, turn her gaze West
where everything passes to yesterday, ask
another glass of wine to promise her nothing.

Joseph Gallo
December 21, 2012

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