Roger Singer

Night,

under a moonless

cloudy sky

is void of

compassion,

indifferent to the

shadows of youth

and the old

praying for another

morning

night crawls boldly

capturing the weak

and fearful

sounds increase

from unknown

spaces

branches become

witches hands,

falling leaves

swooping bats,

vines

spider webs,

the beauty

of day

becomes

evil with night