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  The Evening Light Sliding into Hardened Beauty

A plaintive thing spools quitely in unabated
beauty, a hardening beauty—and who knew what

was going to happen in part 2 or in part 3, or
after. Certainly this evening's light had been made

stern by age, congealing as a varnished strata
across what we see—a now eighth story sun renews

its muster upon the pavement, keeping us postured
against a battered abutment and railings. Anything

misplaced, errant, ill-applied or unwrapped was
of little interest for reasons that were both functional

and apparent. Evening was indeed coming on
as if being filmed as a sparkling, big-screen western.

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