Night's Fall

She strips by degrees;
Layers of bright orange then layers of blue,
(Psychotic symptoms of a strange disease)
To find some ease in black; the blush of blight;
A frightful hue that waits for light.

Uncovered siren, clutching jet hair, she weeps.
Weaves glistening crystals upon the leaves.
Then slowly gathers her forsaken dress;
Waiting since ever to recall forever,
When last she had met and left her lover;

Now murmuring curses under her breath,
Imagines, glazed eyed, conspiracies.
Meanwhile the farmer's boy fears them silently;
Those massive pillars, that whisper, shrouded in shadow:
"Night has fallen upon the meadow."