By Jill... Starjob7@aol.com
Date: 18 February 1998

Appalachia

Appalachia

Sun slips away-
sinks into the waiting folds of evening.
Night- my comforter, the peace
(that holds all things true and dear and loved until morning can come again)
in which I feel you there.
My rock:
staid and true and beautiful- like Appalachia.
You send me into that night well-prepared: though I float on angel wings
(rushed off to sleep)
I wake with the sun, not you, in my eyes.

The sky has spit up the sun again, and night's cold hand is dissolved.
While all is well with the natural world, I wax poetically 
until the moon is king again.
I'll wait each day out
*fabulously valiantly*
I'll cry one in every 28 
days.
I'll even send you a letter 
or three. 
Defeat cannot claim victory yet-
I'm still waiting.
I'll keep waiting,
taking refuge in my knowing
that every time that blinding fury stands guard
and the night watchman takes it's place,
I'll be a bit closer to you,
your eyes (pools of deep thought).
I'm not there just yet, but I'll be smiling
all the while.