EVENING

Evening falls like rain
on the village square as the fruit dims
in the pewter bowl on the shore
of the kitchen island. The vintage
breathes a little, loosening its cork
in the air like the tenor
clearing his throat before the silent crowd.
Tonight the tide goes for a walk while
the seaside mansions dream, and a boat,
hard against the Chinese lantern of the sky,
opens its saffron sails.