I think to myself: I’m safe; I am sound.
Crime in this neighborhood rarely is found.
Night’s dwelling means peace on my little street,
yet thoughts in my head go round and around.
Whose safety can really be certain these days?
On trees out my window I cast my gaze.
They bear a burden the winter has brought.
On their frail limbs the new fallen snow stays.
In some other city, someone else peers
out her window too, but this woman hears
a sound. Oh! It comes from inside the house!
She turns, horrified, as evil appears. . .
Her murder, once known, will prove compelling.
Snow trees are silent; they won’t be telling
whether the killer was someone she knew,
yet a monster broke into night’s dwelling.
Written 1/9/14 by Andrea Dietrich
for nette onclaud's "Into Night's Dwelling" Poetry Contest