Night slowly moves in,<\/p>\n
imitates the land beneath<\/p>\n
in its crackling cooling.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The red glow is scattered now<\/p>\n
like the farmhouse lights,<\/p>\n
and headlamps on highways.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Gray smoke lingers<\/p>\n
though the sea-breeze is intent<\/p>\n
on rolling the miasma inland.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Air smells of stale sugar<\/p>\n
fresh salt<\/p>\n
and floating ash.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
As always,<\/p>\n
one season ends in holocaust,<\/p>\n
the next in pungent odors.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Neither snake<\/p>\n
nor stars in the sky<\/p>\n
make it out alive.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
In pub after pub,<\/p>\n
sweaty faces go with<\/p>\n
fourth beers of the night.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
John Grey Night slowly moves in, imitates the land beneath in its crackling cooling. The red glow is scattered now like the farmhouse lights, and headlamps on highways. Gray smoke lingers though the sea-breeze is intent on rolling the miasma inland. Air smells of stale sugar fresh salt and floating ash. … <\/p>\n