Evening [experiment]

three kestrels are tow­ing the sun
about the wide smile sky
mag­is­te­ri­al­ly as it were
their insis­tent inces­sant
incan­des­cence that made
it atom­ic in the first place

Horus’ houris herd­ing old sol—
who is always still grouchy
like a watery-eyed man
telling kids off his lawn
aim­ing for evening not evening.