shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Mike Dillon



We followed the old path
towards the small light moving
on the brow of the hill
beneath Orion's risen shield.

The grapes were nearly in.
Bread waited to be made
from the blond light of the summer
that lay behind us like a harvested field.

The stars were getting colder on earth
where some fugitive word
that goes on with or without us
waited to be revealed.