Epithalamium: Nineteenth Hour

At night yesterday’s nearer than tomorrow –
Perhaps because the sundown sadness of grief
Bristles chill against the skin, a sorrow
You own up to the way a summer leaf
Will blush and betray its autumn destiny
(The fall is sanctity
Writ large). The fading colors argue sleep…
And stars will blink their maps of unity
To brave the cries and whispers that would keep
Awake with unwarranted vigilance
The doubts that had long since
Been put to bed. This dark margin is slight
But draws out from hearts the poison of distance
And cradles moments that make the difference
Between passing hours and constant moonlight.
The moon wears her light like a wedding gown
And slowly dresses down
From sky to earth – and to what darkness is
Denied by its nature without the key of grace.