Dark shadows stretched forth their icy fingers

As birds of the forest fell to sleep.

Minstrels of crickets began to chime their nightly dirge.

The rustling leaves went to a silent hush

As the last of day gave way to the encroaching dusk.

Soon the woods would be full of nocturnal eyes

Creatures of the night in search of prey.

Down by the brook deer begin to gather

Drinking at the stream, cautious, keen, and alert

To the mountain lions' distant scream.

Two hundred miles away in a city of grease and dirt

Is repeated a similar scene. As souls of the dark

Begin their night behind their shattered dreams.

The "junkie" on the corner begging for a fix,

The prostitute in the alley exchanging favors for blood stained cash

On top of the hill, the weary homeless are in search of a place to sleep.

Twelve hours of fear and pain await those who come this way.

Unlike the creatures of the forest, the souls of the city

Reject the light, in favor of the darkness

That hides their shame as they, too, search for their prey.

J. Allen Wilson © 2001