in this last low light of the waning year
deep blue shadows westward leaning solely
craven and cold they cling to edges
recline beneath trees astride cars below ledges
stretching toward the long night to join them wholly
wrap a shawl around your shoulders dear
and let’s trip the year’s last light
we’ll blithely sip the shadows here
drinking much too long into the night
until at last refreshed with darkness gone
we turn our longing to the waxing dawn
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