(no subject)
Night in Arizona
The moon is a charring ember Dying into the dark; Off in the crouching mountains Coyotes bark.
The stars are heavy in heaven, Too great for the sky to hold -- What if they fell and shattered The earth with gold?
No lights are over the mesa, The wind is hard and wild, I stand at the darkened window And cry like a child. Sara Teasdale, (1915)