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"You can hear Knuckles barking at a train in the distance for no apparent reason. You can’t see anything though."

Sounds In The Night

We hear sounds in the night of work being done,
By toilers and strugglers deprived of our sun.
It is only our comfort that compels them to hide,
As we with our loved ones and treasures abide.

In darkness they toil to repair our worn roads,
Inexorable time limits act as their goads,
They sweat and curse softly the task made so vile,
By shadow enduring the whole of the while.

Deprived of the sun for the task they perform,
In making the broken things newly conform,
To a sullen onrushing of scurrilous knaves,
Turned out of their beds as if out of their graves.

The zombies of daylight come stumbling out,
As night-working elves shrink well back from the rout,
Too soon they’ll return to assess once again,
The damages done by the legions of men.

Sisyphean tasks will await the next night,
Yet they willingly come back again to the fight,
Be blessed, oh ye workers and toilers unseen,
By the sunned-upon creatures of colorful scene.

Let children’s cries and birdsong be,
The lullaby of slumber free,
From dark concerns and matters best,
Attended to after proper rest.

NicknamedBob . . . . . . . June 3, 2008