The madrone hills slowly fade, And merge with the glimmering dusk— The sky glows: a burning façade Of hope, rest, the evening dust… The lane slowly narrows and bends Towards my destination tonight: One star in the velvet sky tends To guide me with its macabre light. I walk along slowly, steadily On this eerie, grassless path; Nightjars, owls, croon throatily; Forcing upon me, their nocturnal wrath. Antediluvian creepers are laced Around wrought-iron gates, I halt; I stand and peer at glazed Long-forgotten, splintered name-plates. As I move, dusty footprints Get erased, the lane becomes pristine— The solitary electric pole glints In the still light of the celestial line. A distant light attracts me, The fractured noise of silence Goes unnoticed; I unconsciously see Lush, invigorated nonsense. A world of good and bad, A motivated realm of winners— Some sumptuous enjoyments to be had, And a few desultory, hollow pleasures. I walk on, hope springs up willingly— The night rains with broken