You are inside an equilibrium. Inside a legend
—or many. As all else is bluing, bats
slash without struggle. Dark builds
its boundaries. Settles at the bottom then vastly above.
In the middle, a jewel blue stripe. On it goes,
mitering in. You are inside that equilibrium. That orb
overall. Lightning ripens and bisects to the north
without clamor. These are your brief concerns.
You have put on your winter cap because the air is askew
with direction. You see the sky isn’t null;
the dark darns itself to some traces.
You think of everyone you love. A tree leans,
undressed, toward the great expanse.
Dark awning. Dark buoy. Stars have started
their exercise. The eye draws from these some triangles
and brushes and dusted animals. Inside
the night, a language is decoding. The blue
nips into its flavors and moods,
becomes a wedge, impossibly
closing on one edge. New stars
saffron and tassel. You’ll never know
more than what leaks out. Before you, the blue road.
Very easy, your ear purposes patterns.
The woven sound of cicadas, the lid of a metal garbage can,
and dark instead of your eye again with its clarity.
The blue has crunched to a line on your left.
You are more inside the unlit and read it like a clock.
When you look at this, do you understand
strength and escape, how to stay, how to emerge?
Or is this only an ornate heaven to watch
for a while? You will need to pick your steps back.