In the late night hours
I rise to walk the sleepy streets
Beneath the silvered moon.
Summer air is soft and warm.
Little breezes lift the willow fronds.
City sounds, distant, muted,
Traffic hum, siren’s cry,
Dim crescendo of a rising jet,
Cat’s cry and cricket’s chirp,
And quick patter of a rabbit
Running through the shrubs.
Car door slams, voices jangle.
Through an open door I hear
Westminster chime and chime again,
Two o’clock, two o’clock,
No comments:
Post a Comment