when the long day climbs down its own bones
and
the
night calls time on the day
with
bells only birds hear
and
front rooms glow yellow and blue and quiet
then
artificial suns
on
concrete sticks
create themselves in crazy flickers
and
shine sick orange
on
the
mist slick black top of cul-de-sacs and crescents
and
the no-mans-land of roundabout junctions
where
thin bold foxes prowl
by
truckers thrown lunch
and
hatchbacks cool their engines
clicking apologies at the stars
and
slow stepping alley cats
sit
silent
between plastic wheelie bins
their
lids lifted high with xmas kipple
thats
when
theres a pause
in
the worlds pumping breaths
and
the
lucky
can
rest
hand in hand
in the warmth
of
nights
dull
pockets
from jamiehallphotography.photoshelter.com
