I sit on the ridge at dusk,
as the light leaves the valley by rising.
Trees, fingers clutch at it,
vaguely sifting the light and dying.
So bleed sarcophagi romantically--
re-bleed with dignifying re-constructive make-up.
I sit on the ridge at dusk,
as the light leaves the valley by rising.
Trees, fingers clutch at it,
vaguely sifting the light and dying.
So bleed sarcophagi romantically--
re-bleed with dignifying re-constructive make-up.