Early August and not yet half past eight,
but all along the dual carriageway
more than half the cars have headlights showing
in the air from which daylight moves away
— the summer, not the hour, being late —
the shapely boxes streaming and glowing
under the sky that was brighter two weeks
ago, and two weeks before at this time,
the season turning at the speed it must
as the cars race or dawdle, and dark leaks
through the porous heavens, and the stars climb
to visibility in blue August
early dusk, the beautiful headlight beams
illuminating what leaves. Children. Dreams.

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