Evening Song

Everything was a bit better at the waterfront

Who was experiencing very slow decay

Who was turning into a laurel tree

Don't you know there's still a place

On the branch of the hanging tree?

It's fitful for a crow or a dove

Past the wasteland we make our home

Past the cocoon we made our bed

The rain will drop on scorch dry land

And every dusk is a mirror

Shall we shatter into the night?

Shall we stutter into the night?

Your hanging frame would be a decent lantern

To guide us back to our home

And I will wrap you into a soft cocoon

Like a scorched moth under the moon

By Aran Meredith

April 2025