I want to shake the dew drops
from my bare feet
after a long night
of tangling with shadows
and following fireflies.
After dark hours
of quick advances and the
even faster retreats, of those
rustling night stalkers.
Me among them.
One of them.
A fellow of the night.
A creature
made up of shadows and
twinkling moonbeams
filtering down, flickering--
shinning through tree boughs,
given movement and life
by the winds gesture.
And like them
those dark beings,
I would squint at morning rays
and hurry back to
sheltered dwellings, hidden
from the harsh sun
and sleep away
the drowning world
full of those
growing flowers,
and garish colors
and wait to play
in midnights stolen hours.
