At Night, Poetry by Anton M. Rojkov

Genre: Nocturnal, Atmospheric, Night Shift

At Night
by Anton M. Rojkov


At night

When most bright colors retreat,

Stillness regains control

Over moving parts of the world.

Eyes miss details,

Hearing catches ghosts talking,

And I watch my skin

With more attention,

Finding myself fascinated

With blood streaming steadily

With bones cracking.

I wonder of grass breathing,

Springs running toward eternity,

Of a warm cup of tea

In a quite shop.

Peering into the dark,

Listening to the air moving

In no hurry, with no care,

As it always does,

But only now I notice.

At night

I want serene things,

Just like shadows swim

Through the streets

And rocks whisper by the bushes.

Working night shift shows so much beauty

In the non-human world

That I rarely witness.

At night

There are so many things

I think of doing during the day.

Then it arrives,

First lights break through.

Those who slept are awake

Stillness seems to be

Progressively beaten into pulp,

While movement

Is the only way to go, once again.

Colors creep in

But small details I cherished

Somehow fade away

Into the war walls of sound

That mash in,

Proclaiming silence an anathema.

Attention and speed

Are now object of worship

And constant reinvention.

Then endless hours

Of rush and rock and roll

Come to slowing down.

The sun is out to shine elsewhere

And stillness is back to amaze me.

I’ve been waiting

To hear rocks whisper by the bushes

In the calm of the air

Breathing on my shoulder.

I’m thinking of so many

Quiet and slow things to do,

Lost in the calm and dark of the night.

    * * * * *

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