Close now, my eyes,
from sun and scene and shape.

Kiss not the sunset
nor seascape
nor linger on such eyes
or lips or legs.

Leave hunger
to deep dreams
when the daily work
is done,
when spring splashes
field with flower,
when debts are drenched
and the storage bins
are full.

The sun will rise
and set again tomorrow,
The sun will rest,
and then walk again the next.

Sorrow flees the busy body,
and runs from eyes
once bent toward beauty
and longing and ache
bound by the
blinders of business,
by the regimen of
self-management,
by the discipline of
staring and shaping
one’s own life.

Close now, my eyes,
from sun and scene and shape,
to greet the glorious glow
by chance
another future eve.