Night is when the words visit.
Taunting my mind
In diaphanous cloth.
As cool, heavy sheets
Sing lullabies of safety
To slow my nervous heart.
And coyotes wail their carrion tales
To everyone, in particular.

Night is when leaves grow
And dreams flow
And gods file past
With skies in tow
And dew hoards starlight
For the near-dawn show

Night is when scars heal
And lovers reveal
And the world is,
In a word,

Reset.

There is hope here on this earth as yet.

Bryson Thomas