Member Poem

Beneath the heavy cloak of night -
  I dare to dream of things
When the hour is hesitant
  And I sense aturnings -

Good things and pleasantries
  So imminently had -
Like the hanging moon - she seems
  Within a cubit's grasp.

The fan palms - they glimmer -
  Shedding light upon my strife;
The hills seem to whisper
  An acknowledgment.

At evening's coronation -
  I watch the stars' gaze
As if a wink from one of them
  Might confirm my fate.

The cynics and their like
  Will shake their heads and grumble;
The night will feign a sigh
  But know my desires well.