This poem is an ode to sunny evenings at that specific lull in between the busyness of the day and the blustering possibilities of the night; - 'stars rise/ moths flutter /apples sweeten in the dark.'
This Moment - Eavan Boland
Things are getting ready
out of sight.
Stars and moths.
And rinds slanting around fruit.
But not yet.
One tree is black.
One window is yellow as butter.
A woman leans down to catch a child
who has run into her arms
Apples sweeten in the dark.