The Dawn Shadow Poem by Nancy Ames

Down there,
on the western coastline
of the northern continent,
on a narrow shelf between
the hulking mountians and
the green waves of that vast,
heaving curve of ocean, you
never see the sun rise, you
never see the dawn.

All day long, you struggle to
define a certain aftertaste
while you hurry to mow the lawn,
before it starts to rain again,
before the sky denies the earth
all but the palest green luminosity.

But doesn't it always seem to
be totally worth it for that single
belated moment of clarity, a
clarity that is like the glorious
heart of a ruby and happens
just before the light is utterly
gone, just before the purple
hissing steam of the drowned
sun rises up yawning above
the triumphant ocean and the
huge black serpents slither
back up onto the newly
darkened land?

They are also an evolving
life-form, you know.