Dusk in the Ruins
                Necropolis, Vulci

I arrive, one more uninvited guest.
A June storm coasts down the horizon
Of the volcanic plateau. I trekked hours
To appear before tombs like an earnest
Pilgrim of some kind. I have come alone.
Cumulonimbus broadens above; flowers
Nod in rising wind. A single white horse
Grazes down below, slowly consumed
By shadow that pours into the valley.
Whole histories, spread and cooled in their course,
Load this darkened air—Etruscans doomed,
Then Romans, these stones their long finale.
I am summered and slow in withered light;
My flinted veins, my parched fields, grind and ignite.

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Copyright © 2013 Ernest Hilbert All rights reserved
from All of You on the Good Earth
Red Hen Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission