only the dark house knows
the way the eye roves
when the stars are snuffed out
one by one
and the sun has read his last tome
and even the humble dormouse
delays the inevitable permanent goodnight.
the raven cackles, knowing not
that his laughter is the omen brought
by the trembling, gauntly hanging moon
whose slender silver beams of truth
hide the last remaining lovers
from the ashes of their hearts.