Late Sun
Late sun, tapping out
its slow beat on my back,
synchronised with my blood,
to be memorised on the skin,
stored up against coming cold.

It has a deeper note,
a different smell,
a denser sweetness,
as if to make up
its clear shortfall,
to compensate for
its soon to be
earlier darkening.

As if by sitting here
under its golden blessing
I could hold it fast
in this perfected moment.