Cradled in a cauldron of beacon-top sky, Falling towards the stars as we fall towards sleep. A moment of stillness becomes a hush of caught breath, Contemplation of suddenly pointed ears, nose, eyes, There, on the threshold of the alien night, Paused with mistrust a moment, then gone.
The evening's measured out in hoofbeats: Reined in, held to a steady pace; For glib June is pulling a half-length ahead, And the thudding refrain of the bay sweeps Of a sunny field across water's race Tugs and teases like the summer's edge.