I HAVE A RECOLLECTION OF A MOON,
AND BRIGHT SHAFTS OF LIGHT
FROM THE NEIGHBOURING HOUSES,
AND SOME OTHERS, DIM BUT SCINTILLATING,
FROM FAR AWAY DISTANCES
BUT THEY HAVE BEEN OBLITERATED
ONE AFTER ANOTHER
BY THE QUIET
BUT DECISIVELY PERVASIVE
DARKNESS

THE TREES THAT SALACIOUSLY SWAYED
IN THE BREEZE, SLEEP,
SINCE THE BREEZE SLEEPS, AND THE BIRDS;
AND HOUSES, AND WINDOWS
AND PEOPLE BEHIND THOSE WINDOWS, SLEEP.
THE LAST DOG JUST BARKED AWAY INTO SILENCE,
AS THE STREETS SLEEP

NOTHING MOVES, LIVES, EXCEPT DARKNESS,
WHICH BREATHES: OR IS IT MY
OWN BREATHING? I CANNOT
TELL THE DIFFERENCE

IT IS SO DARK, SO STILL, FOR THE NIGHT SLEEPS

IT IS NIGHT, OR IS IT NOT:
I CAN HEAR THE FAINT SOUNDS OF LIFE
STIRRING HESITANTLY, RELUCTANTLY,
COMING ALIVE
COAXED BY THE NEWBORN SUN

IT IS NO MORE NIGHT,
AND ANOTHER NIGHTMARE IS OVER,
TO MAKE ROOM FOR ANOTHER;
EXHAUSTED, ENERVATED
I WILL NOW PRETEND
TO GO TO SLEEP