The Night Is Not For Man
Silhouettes of dancing trees
Parade their lunacy
Beneath the vigorous glory
Of a wholesome moon
Silence, that damn silence
Offends my senses
Even the grey Stagnant grass
Beneath cascading moonlight
Seem absurd
Only the darkness grows
With ceaseless Preaching
From devoted leaves
To the pagan spirits
Of wind and rain
And those westerly breezes
As the blackness caress my brow
This black tar road
Holds no fear
Watching the soft drops
Of delicious drizzle
Washing the mud
From my boots
The night is
What it is suppose to be
Unhuman
Hiding truth
From the eyes of man
Copyright © Paul Martin | Year Posted 2016
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