From here, my love and I imagine dawn
til night, the thief of sight, creeps on its way
and from the womb of nothingness light's born;
a blood-red wine, to consecrate the day
all while we rock in bone-grey chairs and drown
on rhythmic seas, washed slowly up and down.
In creaks, each weathered board and slender nail
breathes whispers of our movements while we two
watch creatures, seeking noonday shade. They trail
with caution; burdened, thirsty passing through.
Yet at our side, sweet waters, olives, rare
and wild acacia perfumes drench the air.
Erased by twilight, sunken sky and cloud
dissolve to ink as insects trade refrains
and starlight slowly speckles nightfall's shroud;
a jet-black river peppered by white rains
and on unpainted walls our lamp attends
to gild the brown and white of faded friends.
But as we wish, my love and I remain
in darkness, even though the moon is bright,
and watch through broken slats as stars explain
the twelve most ancient stories of the night;
while beasts, below the hooves of Capricorn,
much like my love and I, imagine dawn.
aye thang yew!