Late

[audio:http://shenandoahliterary.org/612/files/2011/08/Ruark-Late.mp3|titles=Ruark Late]

Late night, late love, and at the window, rain,
And then the aftermath of love and rain,
The wakefulness beside a kitchen window,
The whole house quiet as the soul of darkness

Except for the sounds of two clocks ticking,
Or one blind clock on the cloud-lit wall
And another going tock tock in the downspout.
The rain could spill from the leaves for an hour.

I stand in darkness at the bedroom door
And catch your feathered breathing, slow and pure,
Easy as a heartbeat or the summer rain,
Then wander back for a glass of water

And only the slow tock tock of the rain
To tell me I am breathing in my time again.

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