Nights Aren't as Late


by Brian Jones



Nights arenít as late as they once were.
Four a.m. a month ago has become
10:30 p.m. as of tonight.

Each minute less steals
a bit of hope for something more.

Of course, four a.m. is too late.

At least for the one
who feels the pain
of parting less and less.

No amount of love can
turn a stream uphill.

Though love certainly will try.

And struggle as it might,
even the stream has little control
as it is drawn by that larger force.

To get home, it is impossible
not to cross the flood-stage Rillito;

where many are known to have drowned.


COPYRIGHT 1998
U.S. Copyright # Txu 728-358