When night invades this hollow plane then drifts the hours from twilight to dawn,
As moon and stars lay hidden from the sun's fierce embrace,
An embrace that scorches grass, sand and thought as though
They were shells upon an empty beach'
One that is littered with the soiled spoils of passing ships
Who scratched the blind night with sunken, skeletal, fingers,
Then left their bleached bones pointing toward the closing horizon
As if they were the guiding compass of some unearthly device.
Now the stars steer lost souls back home to a heavenly abyss
That is silver cast as the evening's shadow falls
From a sky painted grey-black-blue.
Dark and sombre and heavy as old man's brows;
As silently eerie as the death of sparrows.
Russell Cuts the Corn From The Brewers Whiskers.