Mounted like a soldier serving

under a much higher superior

it has a nonhereditary dignity

conferred by a sovereign of a

personal merit (aren't you

impressed), for the daily

services that it renders to

the daylight - even works

an extra shift when its

savings time; it comes down

from the sky above like a

short vertical timber, and

then it succinctly splinters

out the dark with the efficiency

of a chess move called a

gambit - it risks and sacrifices

in hopes of achieving a

resulting advantageous position

For it doesn't want a stalemate

but rather checkmate against

the retreating light of the day

which has to do so quickly as

the midnight doesn't particularly

care for any clear spaces - it

much prefers to cover everything

with pitch black from head to toe

And then after midnight ("we're

gonna let it all hang down" - may

I please see a show of hands

from all those who remembered

this?) begins to depart like one

of King Arthur's victorious knights

(Sir Lancelot comes to mind) it

swoops up any remaining fair

lady (never won by faint heart;

sorry, forgot - that doesn't apply

today); also known as a

fragment left in any dark nook

or cranny; then rides off like a

galloping ghost - back to the

heavens, anxiously awaiting

the next sunset . . .

'2008' RLS