Walking Home at One
I have told you how I love the air
at 2:00 a.m. when it’s so clean and clear
the night birds’ warnings not to interfere
seem to include me in their reach of care.
And, here, I’m walking home alone again.
But this is early by comparison. Only 1:00.
The town still has too many houselights on.
A corner has been bitten off the moon
and through some trick of light I can’t explain
Mars alone, butting pinkly at the stars, looks twinned.
The night birds are not ready, yet, to cry shame
on grey intruders crossing their domain.
It is too early for the magic to begin when,
because I love you, I forgive you everything.