Night

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

The black of night.
Birds are hushed, and crickets sing.
Stars scatter the sky,
and the moon demands control.
The nipping breeze passes through our hair,
and the grass harvests the dew for the morning.

Has the question never been raised?
Where does the sun hide when the moon takes over?
Does it cry every moment we wave it goodbye?
Does it rejoyce when we greet it in the morning?
Or does it forget us as we take it for granted?
Never allowing the time to watch the sun awaken.
Never taking the time to wave it goodbye.

Instead we pay attention to what needs to be done, ignoring what matters to us most.
And the moon above smiles malevolently at us both.