Night, a poem.

Night

Suspended in ebony space

a pensive moon,

under a scattering

of mist,

dominates the sky.

Behind her,

in perfect equilibrium,

a veiled sun reinforces

her sovereignty

in the wake

of a vanished day.

Like a finely woven shawl,

night enfolds the world

in the interval between

dusk and dawn.

Bringing silence, healing

and a cool hiatus

from the sun’s burning

heat and light.

Night evokes the

restorative darkness

and repose,

the veiling of

sunlike consciousness

that follows upon the

tumultuous splendour

and striving

of the day.

Coming of darkness is

an awakening:

a numinous world manifested

in the lambent play

of fireflies,

the secret rustling

of night foragers,

the flickering of bat wings

at moonrise.

Shooting stars with

rare, precious

magical knowledge.

Night birth in the soul,

an oceanic feeling of

kinship with the lover

with whom one sleeps,

while the dark earth spins

with the living and the dead.