Flooding the western sky
with a pool of blood,
like a highwayman
glaring at passersby,
to his own camp retreated
the Sun.

Long after,
for an investigation on the spot
to twist day into night,
as in a black police-van,
stampeded
the evening.

And as soon as light was switched on
from window,
jumped out
the darkness.
No sooner had I drawn the curtain aside
than, like a frightened deer,
embraced me suddenly
the wind.