nightfall
the evening star
serenades the dusk,
as ribbons of rusty sky are reflected
in the silver harbour
nestled between
the dark hills
who sigh their goodnights
to the calm sea beyond.
ink-blot clouds cling low to the horizon
and sheathe the crimson-globe sun
in their wispy embraces.
hear them murmur
to the pale moon
promises of a clear night
full of stars and
frosty grass
come morning light.
street lamps glow dull orange
dotting the hills
in scattered constellations;
man’s mockery
of the vacant sun.
rustles of motion
in the undergrowth,
in the branches of the peeling eucalyptus,
where the human hubbub
cannot reach them;
the night creatures stir.
among those who wake
is the keen eyed owl
with a haunting call.
listen to his cries;
he knows who owns
the moonlit hours
that lie before us.
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