When the night is here
and the shutters go up on the frosted window-panes,
when the curtains are drawn,
when that deep quietness descends from a black velvet sky,
when we all look up in awe
at a smiling china moon
and the stars are sparkling,
on off, on off
the night is all around us
leaking into our houses
drip, drip, dripping from unsealed windows
forming in inky puddles
filling the rooms from ceiling to floor,
feeling its way, blind,
with wraith-like hands
to probe and settle into the corners,
to rest awhile in the tiniest of nooks and crannies
and be absorbed into the fabric of life
and show us all maybe, just for one night
That the dark is just dark,
no meaning to be found.
