Now darkness ponds upon the violet hills;
Cicadas sing; the tall elms gently sway;
And night bends near, a deepening shade of gray;
The bass concerto of a bullfrog fills
What silence there once was; globed searchlights play.

Green hanging ferns adorn dark window sills,
All drooping fronds, awaiting morning’s flares;
Mosquitoes whine; the lissome moth again
Flits like a veiled oud-dancer, and endures
The fumblings of night’s enervate gray rain.

And now the pact of night is made complete;
The air is fresh and cool, washed of the grime
Of the city’s ashen breath; and, for a time,
The fragrance of her clings, obscure and sweet.

Originally published by The Eclectic Muse and included in The Best of the Eclectic Muse 1989-2003

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