In Evening Air —by Theodore Roethke A dark theme keeps me here, Though summer blazes in to visco's eye. Who would be half possessed By his own nakedness? Waking's my care— I'll make a broken music or I'll die. Ye littles, lie more close! Make me, O Lord, a last, a simple thing Time cannot overwhelm. Once I transcend time: A bud broke to a rose, And I rose from a last diminishing. I look down the far light And I behold the dark side of a tree Far down a billowing plain, And when I look again, It's lost upon the night— Night I embrace, a dear proximity. I stand by a low fire Counting the wisps of flame, and I watch how Light shifts upon the wall. I bid stillness be still. I see, in evening air, How slowly dark comes down on what we do. Page last updated 14 Dec 2006 Ireland's OWN logo and Background by Míchealín Daugherty Copyright © 2006 Ireland's OWN. All Rights Reserved.