Nocturnal Creatures
Nov 24 2008


At dusk, the wind calms itself.
The sky grows impenetrably black,
looking out
to the cold empty end of space.
Yet close enough
I could reach up and touch,
like soft warm velvet.
So I draw the night around me like a robe,
the stillness
the darkness
this cozy room, alone.

The clock’s relentless tick
is a dripping tap
leaking time
— won’t let me forget how precious darkness is
as daylight presses-in.
When the sun hurts my eyes
and the breeze picks-up
and the air is damp,
its chilly edge
cutting deeper.

I watch the black rectangles of glass
soften,
the lamp’s incandescent glow
grow pale, cold,
and the obsidian sky
begin to dissolve.
When the creatures of the night, like me
pull down heavy blinds,
extinguish the light,
scurry quickly from sight;
taking refuge
until darkness enfolds us again.