There can be no hiding
From the glaring clarity of day.
The noonside sun, high above,
Lights up every cranny
Leaving nothing the comfort of shadow.

The Things flee in the harshness
That follows Them, catching Them
As They sprint ahead and singeing their tails.

The light drains our vitality, also, though.
We squint in the shimmering glare when
The waves of heat rise up over the sand.
We do not see Them.

Our energy sapped,
We sleep through the only part
Of the day when They can be killed.

The afternoonside sun
Peaks out, now more visible
Than one harsh dot in the sky.

The Things creep back from
Opposite ends, growing into
The blackness.

In the safety of the shadow,
The Things slink back into
Our presence, unseen.

Blithely unaware, we lock the doors
Thinking that will keep Them out.
They ooze in under the door,
Touch nothing but leave behind
A palpable fear.