Where do we turn when nature has been dredged of images?
When the sky larks have been compared to philosophy one too many times,
And every rhyme for dove has been thoroughly explored?
When the grey fingers of morning are nothing more than mist,
And the setting sun is simply colors fading to black?
Nature has long been our partner in the quest to metaphorize
Our lives to something we can grasp and understand.
Yet when the gloaming fades to the deep dark of night
And the sky larks are nesting with the doves
We still have each other and conversation until dawn.