The nights of my childhood
were infinite stars
in cold black air, and dogs
howling at just having woken,wandering
through the infinite green towers, and the joy
of having all this before me
with so much for tommorow
those nights
were simple, endless

The nights of my growing and falling years
were clouds fighting stars, and dogs
howling to announce their hunt,
giving prey little chance to run,
and such soft silence
with so many conversations
in the languages of owls and crickets
and my wondering how
they could have all the words
to the things i could barely put into feeling
those nights
are few and fleeting
often thought of, rarely allowed
tommorow
is fast destroying them