NIGHT IS NOT LIKE DAY

Night is not like day,
when my body is groggy and I get tired,
but sleep doesn't come suddenly...


Even when the macabre darkness reigns,
I seek the hidden moon among the hickories,
to make me stray from loneliness...


And strolling with the pace of vagabonds,
I get to feel what they feel:  when they are 
ignored or forgotten by others...  


Crickets seem out of tune,
while the watchful owls conjure;
and what attracts me:  is mystery...


The bag-lady sleeps on the same bench,
and her softest pillow is a heap of leaves;
this morning she performed a superb dance...


The bright lam-posts begin to dim, to scare the fire-flies away;
and flickering they announce the new day,
when the strong aroma of the jasmines exhilarates me...


Night is not like day,
when the perfect  peace is really felt inside;  
even my gentle shadow turns into a silver light...


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2009