Everyone is sleeping.
The trees are motionless.
The wind a whisper.
Sleep hums like a current
through the bright steel night.
Hills fit together like lovers.
Their great straddling thighs clasping
still greater darkness where they meet.
A star breaks and arcs across the night sky
like god, striking a match across a cathedral ceiling.
Therefore I wish, my lips making your name.
It is still, so still, I'm sure you must hear me?
jerry hughes
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/over-the-years-3/
