Sobering to remember: that same
bright carafe of starlight, as it
tilts and starts to pour
a softer and sweeter slow amber
from its bewitching procession
of lower and lower angles
also makes
the shadows grow—
longer and thinner, somehow
increasingly ravenous and unstable
the more of geometry's logic
they devour;
but then, once the whole pitcher
is empty—less enigmatic, and more
realistic.
