April Evening

Outside on an April evening
watching the listless trees
listening past the rusty gates
nestled in budding leaves

Past the squabbling sparrows
—the finch sings just for now
past here, in an enclosed space
my six foot shelter

The roads, a silent roar
the cars disembodied
I can’t see the pale faces
Pale because it’s April

Hearing between distant chords of thought
the common unconscious
of the wind
only a breeze now, only

A cold crisp April evening
when lilacs sniff the breeze
that common calling
—just for now

So long the empty,
the tied-down and sheltered vessel
the subtle change in season
Winter a vessel, empty

Silent roar
uncomprehending blindness
flick a switch—flick a wrist
and the glass is opaque

My glasses turn opaque at morning,
darker in the afternoon,
by evening they are fading
the sunset, just for now.