flow the river's tide, the sinking sun

flow the river's tide
the sinking sun
has this caramel glaze
basting
each one
of our atomic
half-lives
is
slow
cooking
in the turning sky
whistling overhead
why
not
lick the honey drips
of the evening
this once
as you are here
on this hill
where the rooks
still gather
the night
home to roost
one dark cloak
at a time