The night-sounds slowly die away

The mousing owls, the flutter of a pigeon regaining its perch

The unheard moths and the bats: all grow very still

 

The first cockerel crows in the distance

Unanswered and alone

As if repelled by the skies

 

But when the first light dims the stars

The Milky Way dries out, and

The shades likewise lose their depths

 

They slink back among the trees and

Gradually get drunk up by the ground

Like water in hot thirsty desert sands

 

Whither do they go?

From whence will they be summoned

By next night’s starlight?

 

It is my attention that must needs shift

When daylight vision takes over:

They may be where they were

 

Uninspected, no longer sensed

Somehow disconnected, but

Still there …

 

Far away a cuckoo has joined the cockerel

Admonishing the sleepy blackbird: very soon now

The daylight-racket will drown out the night