Playtime is Over
With an invisible hand,
the sun dunks itself
in some unseen other earth.
Having received their cue,
garden flowers close up,
hummingbirds retreat
from the nectar feeder.
Even childhood must respond.
The fading light
calls me home
louder than a mother’s voice.
I need to be through that back door
before the moon rises,
a star emerges
It’s not that I am
afraid of the dark.
I just don’t know
what to do with it.
