The Longest Night
By Jessica Roper
Gleaming neon feathers
project from the setting Sun,
bold and stunning against
purest periwinkle blue.
They break apart slowly,
forming soft, golden jumbles
of passionate light, a taste
of warmth to break the coming darkness.
Despite the strength of their glow,
spanning the full horizon
to cast deep shadows
against purpling Night,
their brightness begins to falter;
that vivid flash of gold
fades to glowing embers,
the shadow of its fiery blaze.
As each color dissolves
into the mysteries of twilight,
the slender curve of Moon
smiles wanly on the mesa.
Beneath her tranquil gaze,
the ravens return to their roosts,
making one final pass
to salute her with wingtips raised.
The deer settle beneath
juniper trees, powerful with age,
their sturdy branches offering
shelter from the cold.
A tall-eared hare darts
between clumps of sagebrush,
pausing to sniff the still air
before she seeks her nest.
Only the coyote stirs:
he meets the Moon’s
thin, steady gaze
with gleaming eyes narrowed.
