Blinds thwack against the window pane,

Pushed by a draught as deep night curls inside, over a painted ledge,

Swirling like smoke into my quiet room.


Outside the streetlights flicker, their gold haze a halo,

Above telephone poles, as smudge-shaped shrubs crouch,

Creature-like, along the nature strip.


Rain glistens in tears; balancing on leaf edges, tumbling,

Free falling to dark grass below, while someone’s dog howls,

Away in the distance, perhaps over the next street, across distant paddocks

That stretch over land in silver blankets.


The country train squeals on its tracks at the station,

Whistles carry farther on crisp, cold air. Face pressed beside glass,

I spy, grey cat slipping away between shadows,

Elusive as sleep that still fails to come.