At 8:15 the evening creeps
along the tops of houses
to steal the sunlight from the sun
and hide it in the sand.

By 9:00 the sun has gone to sleep;
the sand’s still glowing red
in strips of fire beneath the sky
like writting from God’s hand.

Come 10:00 the ocean soaks the sand
then throws a sad and empty mist
out from the depths onto the land
to choke with heavy ancient things
and pale years piled up like sticks
in portent of the end of man.
God holds our hand up to that end,
by 12:00 it’s hard to feel it.