Night

Touch-type footsteps
Down the chiseled path,
Dusk settles on the street,
Doors are locked and in they huddle,
As the street retires once more,

Towering lampposts crack the air
A sudden jolt of lightning,
Then blackest nights in patchwork,
And ghoulish trees entomb,

As the letterboxes wink,
Eerie figures lurching on,
And crisp grass cuts to ice and mud,
Fabrication of the norm,

Where shadows inch behind,
In their crack, whip, chilling hues,
Crickets toast the ritual feast,
And mosquitoes absorb the night,

Stars confetti on the blanket sky,
And weep little light below,
Allure sweeps past
Seduction tails,
The trance of night ensues,

And dulcet noises crave,
From friendly fire-warmed light,

The breeze is still and chilling,
No more whines or howls or gusts,
In the twilight zone, the presage,
The storms eye-like reverie,

The augur speaks in this strange place,
Transformed to speak the divine,
From the conforms of the sun lit day,
The street becomes the night.