Kneeling at the window as if in prayer

He looks out at the night

The surrounding trees are black shadows

Barely seen against the indigo of the sky

No stars shine tonight

But an unrisen moon lightens the air a little

With an almost imagined spectral light

Somewhere over the distant lake an owl calls

And calls again

A late moth blunders against the open window

Otherwise all is still -

As quiet as a sepulchre, he thinks

Smiling at the absurdity of the word

That unbidden hyperbole

Let his psyche try!

There will be no versifying

No fantasy or fable

Tonight -

It is just a dark night