Voices on the Wind Evening Voices
In a Domesticated Suburb by David Francis When blue evening falls on even the streetlight that is before it and corners start to be mysterious obstructions and you start to get in the way because you donít know the way Ė earlier the grain of a city tree caught my eye and now again shops closing, people hurrying, the awning shadows like wave troughs, private studies through leaves and attracted insects, all gold.