Now at the moth hour

Bright moon-pearl in the shimmering waters
This river has been a constant thread through-
out my life   How many times have I strolled
back and forth across its bridges? With and
without purpose
                         and in or out of love
Days when I have counted the cormorants
lolling on the iron barges moored mid-stream
listened to the raucous cry of gulls and
quietly aged   Anglers are casting their flies
from the end of the pier   Never once have
I seen a single fish pulled from the depths
Now at the moth hour as the strands of day-
light unravel   an ev’ning star appears
Dust gently settles
                         on all ends of things

John Lyons


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