Nocturne (Tremors of the Earth)
       

Dear shadow, electric lights burn once more
throughout this remote valley, though night
arrived hours ago. Darkness will be restored
shortly. My only photograph of my brother
fell from the bedroom mantel and woke me
from the dream in which I visited his grave.
I always wanted to believe that the dead lay
in undisturbed sleep. You, shadow, become
still, listening to the footsteps and blunders
of the fearful who retire one after the other
in their homes above you. In the plane tree,
the owl straightens its feathers, compacting
its prey into a sphere of bone and gray hair.

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Copyright © 2016 Gregory Kimbrell All rights reserved
from The Primitive Observatory
Southern Illinois University Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission