In the night

So many things the day hides in full sight
sing sweet enough to break my heart the night,

and wild wind through the branches stripped of leaves
paints dancing shadows, moon art in the night.

The path is hard to tread the day, but sweet
freedom’s taste less tart seems in the night.

Yet under cover of the dark we lie,
deny love could depart, thief in the night,

and many times, with bitterness, we’ve said
we only need a fresh start, in the night.

Ephemeral as sunlight on the stream,
kingfishers never flash-dart in the night;

if only I could hang onto the dream,
I’d run with hare and hart throughout the night.

Instead, the clouds spill dark across the sill,
no words of mine can make them part this night.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

21 thoughts on “In the night”

      1. I’m pleased you like it. It’s one of those forms where I have to concentrate so hard on getting the words in the right order that I lose track of what they sound like.

  1. if only I could hang onto the dream,
    I’d run with hare and hart throughout the night.

    my favorite part. It is hard to make them flow, but this one works. (K)

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