A faith’s embers burn within us
As in the poet’s Victorian gloom.
Oxen are night’s meek creatures
In their stew of straw and urine
In tail swishing of sleepless flies.
Gloom sits yet at twelve of clock
Awaiting the paper star to shine.
A few drones appear in a desert
A peace offering by far off men,
Ever lasting peace for strangers.
(Reference is to Thomas Hardy’s poem “The Oxen”)