The night never wants to end, to give itself over
to light. So it traps itself in things: obsidian, crows.
Even on summer solstice, the day of light’s great
triumph, where fields of sunflowers guzzle in the sun –
we break open the watermelon and spit out
black seeds, bits of night glistening on the grass.
~ Joseph Stroud, from Of This World: New and Selected Poems 1966-2006 (Copper Canyon Press, 2009)