There was a brilliance of lights

where streets were strung tight.

A weaving of shadows and footsteps.

Gifts of plenty and excited faces.

The evening curtain of infinity space

painted a dark background for stars

beaming through ages of air.

There is nothing fast with night.

It covers with blankets the sins of day;

the sounds soothe the sleeping and

entertain the young. Breezes twist

around corners, lifting the edges of

uncombed hair. Clouds find no favor

under moonlit nights, slipping to

horizons on silent tracks. Footsteps

move to the street, searching places

of safety and common thoughts.


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