Glass Night

come, flash
of mailbox and sign,
and shine

of brush,
stubble and all
the lit lonely

windows wrapped
in the glass branches
of tree

after flying tree.
Come, moon-coated
snow hills, and flung

far ahead pole
by pole the long
glass cobweb

in my high beam
that carries me deeper.
Come, deeper

and mute dark
and speech of light.
Come, glass night.