Night Vs Day
By Wanda Lea Brayton
Children are tucked unwillingly in their beds,
deadbolts checked and checked again
as if to keep out what is already within and waiting.
The cacophony of day has quieted to a slow drawl
and wolves howl at unseen distances
between them and their prey,
between them and the warmth of their lairs.
They are doomed to wander in this thick, chilled hollowness
instead of curling up and resting from the day’s frivolities.
The owls know, but remain silent except for a single sound
of broad wings swooping and catching the air,
invisible kites we cannot hear.
The moon shimmers as she rises,
gathering her dark basket full of stars,
her glow illuminating the paths of small creatures scurrying
beneath her nonjudgmental eyes.
Crickets bend and scrape their legs in song,
believing the birds are nested, but wary of frogs.
Things creep in this darkness
that dare not reveal themselves in the light.
