Night

The light recedes
from the sky.
Branches can only
be made out as a
deeper darkness.
This day is
ended. Cars still
swarm like fish
on the tide of
night, coming in
a faster rush
now sound is
magnified. I feel
my way in the
dark, breathe
the air which
has been held
and released
by the tree
from its net of
branches – wait
for the slow
opening of
night, like
an abalone
silvered over
with the spoils
of light.