[url=http://1190.bicyclesonthemoon.info/aftertime/viewer?story=advent&f=8][img]http://1190.bicyclesonthemoon.info/aftertime/advent/advent-08.png[/img][/url]
[center]~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
[i][size=85]Two excerpts from
[/size][/i]
[b]Book of Hours
by Kevin Young[/b]
The light here leaves you
lonely, fading
as does the dusk
that takes too long
to arrive. By morning
the mountain moving
a bit closer to the sun.
This valley belongs
to no one—
except birds who name
themselves by their songs
in the dawn.
What good
are wishes, if they aren't
used up
The lamp of your arms.
The brightest
blue beneath the clouds—
We guess
at what's next
unlike the mountain
who knows it
in the bones, a music
too high
to scale.
* * *
The sun's small fury
feeds me.
Wind dying down.
We delay, & dither
then are lifted
into it, brightness
all about—
O setting.
O the music
as we soar
is small, yet sating.
What you want—
Nobody, or nothing
fills our short journeying.
Above even the birds,
winging heavenward,
the world is hard
to leave behind
or land against—
must end.
I mean to make it.
Turning slow beneath
our feet,
finding sun, seen
from above,
this world looks
like us—mostly
salt, dark water.[/center]
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