courthouse

Open

the book of twilight

where pigeons

circle the courthouse

skimming low, fluttering

to roosts in oaks

that line the square

fading sky a bruise:

cerulean, plum,

a brushstroke of clouds,

dome and belfry

home to gnatcatchers

that swoop and pirouette

for nightbugs drawn

to streetlamps coming on;

this is the scene as dark

approaches, as cars’ twin

beams come on, as winds

that battered the state flag

atop the metal pole

begin to settle

winds that scoured

the countryside

all day but now die

to a whisper

a soft kiss

upon your cheek.

 

--Miguel deO

 

Done