On a platter (with a little bit of stretch)

The sun is done feasting
On a varied,sushi sky
The moon comes up for desserts
But the valley pastry is too dry

Lakes swill and lap
Into late, goth-hued hours,
Potent, dark, and strong
Like nice, vintage liqueurs

Elements in nature may rejoice,
Sometimes they may brood,
Remarkably, though, how everything,
Comes close to resembling food.