Evening

Foolish, to need when there is sky—
a small dog pawing at the door
      of an empty house. From the road

into town, dust. The world we sleep
within, only outlines and half-
      words. It reminds us even the wind

won’t stay, offers someone moving through
the dark, through breath and hills. Thought,
worry open your window tonight.

Copyright © 2009 Steve Wilson All rights reserved
from Beloit Poetry Journal
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission