Awdl Gywydd on 23:17

Beyond a crescent-shaped moon,
nightfall’s noon suspends our time
while soft, silent air holds mass
for a tilted glass of wine.

Chardonnay burns in the sky
as lamps belie false worship
of vaulted, star-seared twilight
above bustle-bright car strips.

A floating, soundless chord breathes
underneath a choir of mist,
and the shuffling sighs below
murmuring echoes persist.