Dark time comes with hush.
Then in the sleep-close hour
sounds begin
That no one stops to hear
In daylight rush.
Tone webs spin through trees,
Where life is still awake
in little things
That orchestrate a night
of harmonies.
Footsteps ticktock beats,
As people coming late to homes
move fast.
Through shadow-quiets, spread
On dusted streets.
With some night scent caught
A dog’s bark sharply cracks
the shell of dream.
And scratches on the door
Of restful thought.
This poem was originally included as one of three under the title “Three Poems” in the Winter 1947 edition of the student magazine Dimensions.