Night, the mystery,
the closed eyes of day
where shadows appear larger
and forbidding. Lonely dogs
send howls of sadness into
cold air. Cats prowl on silver paws.
Street lights make an attempt
to provide safety. Corner clubs
become revived with music.
There is a chorus of moving tires
and workers on buses. Voices
round corners while alleys are home
to whispers. Fire escapes become
terraces for gossip. Diners welcome
late night stragglers. The dark
cloudless sky is a bowl painted with
stars.
Roger Singer 