Night (Poem)

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Photo by Paul Martini.


By Austin Holmes

I come together again at night, I open my eyes,
I wet them with this darkness full of dream.
— Jaime Sabines, I Have Eyes to See

at night the cownprint is silent
water from the day’s rain
fills its tenebrous depth
and drinks the light of the moon

in the afternoon the harvester ants
rummage through the woody mulch of a clearcut hill
trees downed to expand grazing pastures
junipers six hundred years old left to rot
their upturned roots black in the white day
paralyzed in the unfamiliar air

at midday the moss of a puma’s eyes
are shaded by lids in slumber
its quick restive breaths as silent
as its stalking in the dusk
its fur like november topaz
softlit in chiaroscuro from the staggered light
of a departing sun

in the morning the spider busies itself
in the small cavern it found
carved into pumice
near the wash where the sunlight
never reaches

the streams of the world wail with drought
I am unknown to myself
I give to my shadow: a form
for what else can I offer it?
I say farewell to the waning light
welcome, again, cold
and unquenched night

— Read more poetry by Austin Holmes on the Canyon Echo.