by Archer Dougherty
Yellow evening rolls down the mountain
Burning tips, black silhouettes of the cottonwood trees.
The warm white sheep trickle into a stream, under
The marble sickle moon.
Cool indigo shadows flow out among the golden
Hills; the crow settles into his shroud.
Evening sinking silence cushions the tick
Of the clock; stills, then moves, then stills again.
The red wine grabs the sun in a pair
Of green glasses - the stars in their shadows dissolve
In the fading light.
The orange flame of evening extinguishes itself
In the perfect shadows of your hair.
Slow thumbnail strokes;
a strong chin in a marble palm - cradling a light smile.
Cool moonlight slides over our naked