Dusk

though i cannot & you 
will understand 
    say why the 
        woods (following 
    into dusk 
        this little bird) fill up

    with darkness (wine does not 
        in its blackness 
                     nor climbing the harbor cliff hold
        the same grave 
    power to intoxicate)
        with only

                    you (drinking in
night's mist & deliciously

George Wallace