Night
is creeping into day.
Beyond creeping now
she’s actually shoving and pushing.
She pushing the plants’
sugars down to their roots
and they look like they’re dying.
We fight back
with street lights and wake-up calls.
We pull ourselves up and peel our eyes open.
We stand up
and shake-off the
heavy,
lonely,
quiet
in hope
there will be laughter ahead.
For never at night
could I have seen the golden leaves dance their way to the earth,
sparkling in the sunlight.
Never,
without night,
could we survive.
