it is
the dead of night
they say…
but they’d be wrong –
for darkest, deepest eve
is where the night belongs;
not dead
but caught in shadowed mid-song
the night, like quiet birds
takes flight, takes me along;

no it is not dead within the black,
there’s only heavy-lidded life,
there’s only sun that I now lack
in this not-so-dead night
with lots for me but little light