Member Poem

Weary day surrenders to night;
  She wears a pleasant countenance.
Echoes of traffic hush the strife
  Of a long day; a moment of silence

Makes still even the Holy Ghost
  As the cobalt of the sky fades.
A moth makes love to the lamppost
  Knowing the warmth of its rays.

Come darkness, come tomorrow.
  Will they bring the nice thoughts I’ve thought?
Yea, my heart is not shallow
  But guides in a way my eyes cannot.