The Leisure of Evening
By John Herlihy

We fret about the darkness of the night;
Thieves and goblins give us an undue fright.
Children listen to ghost stories and beg for more;
Ghosts make creaking sounds on the attic floor.
But our petty fears sometimes freely give way;
Our fear of the darkness no longer holds sway
Over the leisure of the evening smelling of musk,
Welcoming day’s end with the descent of dusk.
Flowers close their petals and call it a day,
But they stay awake at night and silently pray.
I see footprints in the mud that can only belong to a frog,
Croaking a few sounds before moving on in the bog.

The grass grows in the darkness as it does during the day;
Blind bats dart expertly through the trees in search of prey.
Fireflies glow in the dark shadows of the family bower;
They illuminate the night for me in my darkest hour.
Even the moon sits carelessly for a moment on the horizon,
Out of respect to the man in the moon now old and wizen.
People look forward with expectancy to the close of day,
The day’s work is done and the time has come to settle down.
The exhausted farmer wheels into the barn his wooden dray;
The donkey can now relax and munches contentedly on hay.
The leisure of evening descends with a stunning display of stars;
They shine mystery upon the earth we claim as truly ours.