Poem to Night
Melodies reach clouds,
through chirps,
and serenade gangs of stern
blocks pretending to be rocks
aged skins continue to soften,
in a whirlpool,
above as words whirl
below piercing sweet wisps of pipe.
The time for silence,
silent assassins,
draw blood and rejoice,
in communal frenzy for electrical light.
by David Bugg (2008)