No Aubade for Noctural Devotees
My morning is your afternoon.
I waken as you yearn for siesta.
The daybreak birds are silent now.
I see the midnight hour come and go.
My window opens that I may
breathe the night to noon
and fill my dreams with fir and cedar.
Dawn may please early risers.
I know it not. ‘Tis peace of darkness
that reveals a full moon halo,
meteors, northern lights
and the unexpected call of owl.
Daylight speaks of last wills and testaments,
death and war, the time of cacophony
and frantic rush to increase the bottom
line and meet the next deadline.
The poet rocks and gazes out the window
to see life anew. The Japanese maple
leafs out to exotic chartreuse flare.
Nyctophiles gather with bone china
tea cups, just as you meet for cocktails
and think us non-conformists,
eccentric and bohemian.
I know the sky by looking up, not
from books. Revel as you will
with rhapsodies of dawn.
The sun will pass me by and I shall
wait in cedar darkness to see
what libation the Big Dipper