The black willow hung
O’er the summer moon,
Reflected in the water’s gleam.
A green wind mourns for
The thick day’s wasting sun,
Gone with a stealthy envy
Of the dark, upper silence of
Night. Clouds, like haunted
Cats pick their way across the sky;
A bitter dove coos chill lullabies.
Weeping hands wring sleep away,
Far from hot eyes; welcome the cool.
Welcome the dark relief.
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