Return to Index

Night Games

The sinking sun now leaves the sky,
and rush of day has passed us by.
Crickets chirp and late bird calls,
dayís shadows fail, nightís curtain falls.

The rasping croaks of frogs now boom,
like banshees howling from their tomb.
The screech of owls in search of prey,
join in nightís chorus, dark and grey.

The moon casts out its ghostly light,
and lends its power to feed the night.
The landscape now is grim and bleak,
and cloaks deathís deadly hide and seek.

Before the rising of the morní,
victors fed, and victims torn.
With all of this, hid from our sight,
cloaked by the veil we know as night.

As morning light once more appears,
a new dayís chorus greets our ears.
Night timeís deadly deeds are done,
itís memories bleached by rising sun.

Ivor G Davies

Return to Index