The Night
by Hazel Warlaumont
It came at once.
Day fell like petals wilted by the sun,
no roosters crowed, no screen doors slammed,
just a soft light falling across the acacias,
as the day sank into quiet, then dark.
You want to touch the night,
hold it in your hand, feel it across your face,
its texture, damp, cool, limpid; its orange
stars falling ‘tween your fingers like
sparklers at a party.
The sight takes hold, urging you to look
at the spray of stardust gushing through
the sky, the moon shining a soft light
across a field; the night, the mask it wears,
hiding the day so you can see it is not alone.
Before turning to creative writing, Hazel Warlaumont enjoyed a career as a professor of communication and media studies at Cal State Fullerton and as an adjunct at the University of Washington. Her poetry explores modern societal themes such as loss and discovery. She lives and writes on Whidbey Island, Washington.