Lennox Night.

Water crashes against the rocks
of a dead-dark coast.
My fingers tap.
Just write what you are thinking!

Seems a lifetime or many
alone in the dark.
Waves getting louder
now; closer.

A night-bird chips
like a rusty swing.
The house creaks.
A branch scrapes the window.

Calmly, I sit.

The surf surges,
then retreats into its own echo.
Leaving dark voices to creep
forward across the dunes.

Still, I sit.