A spiraling of evening light,
A quick declension into dark;
The murky and the recondite,
A glint from off the curving arc —
A staring, past the point of sight;
About to finally disembark —
A spiraling of evening light,
A quick declension into dark.
And though the leaf be fastened tight,
The dying day will leave its mark:
On those who guard a lost monarch —
A spiraling of evening light,
A quick declension into dark.