|Summer Evening, Edward Hopper, 1947|
Is it hares
or do rabbits dance
after the sun sets
in a peeved lilac bowl?
Is it written in some shepherd's almanac
or in the creases of a woodsman's hand?
Who holds the secret
that brings the bucolic vamp
infant and ancient
to swagger her spell
from the curve of her neck
like a boiling samovar?
Two long fingers twist high in a vee
strong with branches for many birds
she signals bats to circle
swifts to weave tribal high
in tribute above cattails
before spitting out the bruised sky
chewed and swallowed
Many thanks to the talented R.A.D. Stainforth for reading this piece.
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