Notturno

The evening isn’t the end
Of anything but sunlight
For a few hours in that spot.

Even at the poles, it’s not
The end, beginning the long
Winter night. It’s the middle,

As morning is the middle,
As everything is middle,
Some with faster happenings.

The fast-happening middle
You feel as a beginning
Or an end. The slow you don’t.

Things change more in the evenings,
In the sky, with the lighting,
And you notice and respond

With turning on your own lights,
Or getting home before dark.
After that, everything goes

Through the middle of the night
Until the morning finds you
Thinking about the evening.