End of the Day

2005-07-22

Now that the sun
has disappeared
behind the trees,
as the light languishes
and the stars multiply
next to a blind moon
that glides like a ship,
always insisting
on the same eternal course,
the house closes in on me
and is a nest
of tried routines
and maternal certainties.
Heated by the fire,
is snug-fitted comfort:
a cup, a fruit, warm baked bread.

And it seems that the world itself
has been completed.
The thirst, the groin, the mind,
quiet and content.
The adventure,
the efforts of another day,
achieved
The chores all done
And now the joy, the rest.

And I tell myself that life
is worth its pains
and I walk towards my sleep
with serene steps,
like a moon on my own eternal course,
despite a gentle squeak
that in the immense, deserted rooms
sounds like a groan
from a trespassing emptiness,
turning in for the night.