Five O'Clock Hour

STOP on the five o’clock steps, the door
Closed on the tidy desk, the notes
Holding to-morrow asleep; once more
Breathe the night’s peace into your throats
And look at the lights blossom on tree,
On shining street; the neon signs
Like wheels of fire impossibly
Real and diurnal; willows and pines
Lacing the pink and citied sky
With the water, free of boat and swan,
With the grass yellow to darkened eye,
The benches empty, the strollers gone.
This is your hour, hung between
Office and home, efficiency filed
And love to come. This is your scene,
Free of demands, undomiciled.
Oh working women, hide your bright
Handcuffs beneath your little night.