Ken's Poetry

Night Image

Day is packed away,
shadows detached hang
in dark corners
dancing invisibly.
Hawk and lark
plunged in silent dark
give way to the wideawake owl
and the screaming bat.
The air smells of moon-smoke
spiralling from pinhole stars,
light years hanging
on combed strands of time.
Necklace of street lights
snakes into space,
night-life neons
flicker and drum;
swirls of fluorescence
in laser light dance
skimming the darkness,
spinning the weary
into the saucer
of rising sun.