.
night’s slow-train headlight
bends over the ridge without sound
no rumble, squeak, click or horn.
day is silently overcome
as stars persevere
night casts shadow furtively almost
I count on this obscurity
I hear the river over a dam I cannot see
tumbling as night rolls, but night I love
and give it thanks, its dream face is present’s shape,
expanding to download daylight’s haul
I sit on a tailgate resting, listening to scuffle
of other souls in an undergrowth deep and wide
as the hole at the center of the universe
I listen to leave’s rustle and scratch— someone nests
being true as any someone seen in light at sunfest
but night’s not a willful hider, it just happens as things revolve
—night’s a negative provider who spins shadow from now to past,
—a shadow spider whose web’s spun wide
dusk to dawn and snags sometimes on deep past
(the brilliant bits of it that in daylight hide)
.
by Jim Culleny
4/20/14
Blink 