Warm thoughts on a cold night.
It’s the coldest October night in years
And I guess it must get better:
Far up on the lonely hill at night,
Between the plateau and the town,
I stand and look along the coast,
Then cast my eyes dull down.
What noise of cricket, bird or rat,
That gives the night its sound,
What manner of the dark lone night,
That emanates to town.
‘Tis mystery why no person comes
The track is lifeless now,
The wind it blows the saplings back,
And moves across the bough.
But here alone, a wonder builds,
Inside my fertile mind,
Perhaps tomorrow in the light
I’ll seek and I shall find.