Nightwatch
by Laura Gallagher
May 9, 2007
Between my warm, still house
And the chill dark of outside air
There is a pane, a pane of glass so clear;
And yet it bars, bars the dark
From coming in to me, to us, to home.
Outside the deer move through the night
With flinty hooves and warm grass breath.
Outside the owl glides noiselessly
Seeking yet another small, rustling meal.
The air is cool, moist, laden with smell so strong
That when the sun begins its round again
The dog inside will press to go and sniff
Each blade, each petal, each leaf.
About the author:
I am a homemaker in Pittsburgh with two teenage daughters and an elderly mother, who resides at an assisted-living home nearby. I have acquired many credits from a variety of schools (Kenyon College, Duquesne University, and the University of Pittsburgh) toward a degree in English. One of the most freeing things I've experienced in my fifties is meeting other women my age who understand when I say that "I don't know what I want to do when I grow up!" I find that I must write poetry. It is "efficient journaling" for my life's experiences.
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