July 31, 2026 [Issue 48] Night Comes, Peter Krok

The night coats its darkness
over the chilled evening.
The bulbs of street lights
halo the roadways. Yesterday
I saw a buck in the backwoods
scenting the wind.
A doe lazed in the brush.
So many abide. They “pass over.”
Friends and relatives who live only
in the distant silence drifting
in the darkness. Autumn
falls on the leaves
and we are alone.
O sweet Earth, hold me
a little longer. Let the sun warm
my back a little longer before
life wears out its welcome.
I breathe thankful. O sweet Earth,
keep me a little longer.