Night steals forth

Curtains “and an absence of light, in the deepening night,
Where I wait for sun, looking East.”
Jackson Browne

Cold calls of the whippoorwill haunt
Me in the deepening night, sneaking
Unseen but heard in small rustlings.

Winsome is the breeze swirling among
Deep green pine spires; they wave gently,
Creaking on occasion – a sad, telling cry.

Night steals forth anyway, courageously.
This courage defeats even those who know
What emerges from darkening corners – terror.

All thoughts now turn to you, the light.
Beams sifting through your hair shone
Upon my face and lit my heart in white.

Laughing, I hear my throaty voice spill
Liquid over the piney forest floor like
Wine we drank upon the great green lawn

Of a higher learning institution with
Falling shadows held at bay by hope,
That your long length would give way.

Cold calls of the whippoorwill haunt
Hallways filled with windows open, and
White curtains billowing inward – my soul.

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About Pitboss14

Cosmic surfer of paradoxes.
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