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
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