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.