this still evening

quiet after a snare drum day

now slack and at rest

with only echoes flying away

as evidence of a crazed tempo

that left us sweating breathless

this still

that glows as candles

quivering upright

in a silent falling twilight

that slows the pulse

and lays the bellows aside

this still

leads the quivering mind

to the welcome grave

prepared by night dark and earthy cool

as she spread her black wings

stealing worry from our weary hearts

singing softly

let it go

that this day’s death might come

to dream of morning’s resurrection