Satan's silhouette appears in tabloid magazines
and six-o'clock news spots
that report groups of women
congregating in wooded areas.
The honesty of trees whispering God's name
leaves gossip to find its way
into television sets and the darkened hallways
of drunken bars.
These consecutive days of bad weather
in New England
restore a faith, however dismal.
And though the weatherman gives the daily decline
in sunlight by minutes,
I know it takes longer for things to leave us:
Dusk hides in my backyard
under stones and in tall grass,
the gate left open for it to walk away
and into the world.