Fewer creeks <br />blacker starlings <br />fewer home-made killing-jars <br /> <br />Moths and butterflies <br />still dancing <br />through the sound of passing cars <br /> <br />But now the creek's <br />beneath a building <br />traffic din may never end <br /> <br />Secret places <br />all are forfeit <br />with beetles wing and muskrat's den <br /> <br />Bridge us to <br />the purple twilight <br />when the mist was medicine <br /> <br />Spirit us <br />across the gloaming <br />to where the trees stood listening <br /> <br />Can you hear it <br />Can you hear it <br />Hear this song of rust and rain <br /> <br />In the twilight <br />in the gloaming <br />open up and feel again.<br /><br />Brian Purdy<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-new-romance/
