This is the Hour
Thomas DeFreitas
this is the hour of fences
the moment of obliquities and excuses
this is the hour when winter makes a comeback
this is the hour when pigeons sleep
this is the hour of elected reclusion
the lamp shines away from the page
and spills its luster into dusty corners of the room
this is the hour of tight-fisted solitude
and of the nightmares of the miser
this is the hour of minims and drams
of pennies and of degrees
this is the hour of ice and of rust
this is the hour of elegy