son et lumière

Flip-flapping with the bats

and trotting with the foxes.

Hands protrude from hedges

and black night blurs the edges.

I took a dusty flight

upon a moth's wing

and during that mothy ascent,

I became one with everything.

At ten minutes past dark,

the son et lumière

at the lodge by the side of the park

suddenly flared and sparked into life;

its strident sounds orchestrating,

its bright lights illuminating

strange yet sexy spectral scenes

from a phantasmagorical dance hall.

But come the morning,

when they crowded round

to spool through the CCTV,

none of them could see a thing.

B.R. 25.05.2021

They Only Come Out at Night.
Picture by B.R.