Reluctant Night

Night is long in coming.
Leaden gray clouds linger through
a colorless afternoon and gladly
surrender to the reluctant advances 
of evening.
The world is a slow motion movie
run at half speed.
Darkness, stalled somewhere between
El Paso and Yuma's sculpted
sand dunes, is disinterested and
unhurried by a breathless sky.
It is doubtful if stars will even show up.
The moon?  Anybody's guess.
Night, though, has always been unreliable,
ill mannered and temperamental.
I once knew a man who waited a 
week for night's arrival but finally gave up
and moved to Finland.


  • Diamond

    I am really enjoying your writings. "unhurried by a breathless sky"
    Lovely. Thank you for sharing.

    • DesertWords

      I'm very pleased that you like what you read. Ive written for a long time and I enjoy it more and more. Thanks for your comment.

      • Diamond

        "Poetry" has no verb form....It's the breathings that Musically spill out as Poetic imagery. When I happen to see that intensity, I am moved. Pleasure is mine.

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