Night

Arriving silent, scarcely noticed.
It swoops with ebony wings
Upon the towns and villages;
It dominates the countryside,
Darkly shrouds the city, too.
Except the strip, where blazing neon
And fearless, gloating streetlamps
Hold it back just far enough;
It is the night.

Settled now, it reigns as King,
Ruling over factories and homes,
Wharfs and sullen alleys,
Vacant lots and harbor mists.
It is darkest in the cemetery.
Night is a monster,
Fearing nothing, save Sunrise.

by Gordon Dean Schlundt

Other poems of GORDON DEAN SCHLUNDT (2)

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