It's an evening that you suddenly find, a moment
at December's short day's end that raises
a new, golden moon in your left twilight,
a sundown pinking into treetops
beside you, as Venus, the Evening Star,
shines her feminine beauty and myth
on the path before you. The unexpected axis
of your thought wants to create something
from the sudden cold of details—but you need
to forget chaotic science, or math's pattern
of disciplined explanation,
forget metaphor--this is life turning
into your vision, as infinitesimal and close
as your breath, your heartbeat,
your embrace. This is the turn
you get, sometimes, unasked for.

About the poet: Previous work by Scott Hutchison (both poetry and fiction) has appeared in such publications as The Southern Review and The Georgia Review. New work is forthcoming in Slant, The Medulla Review, and Foliate Oak.