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.