Premiere Generation Ink.


A Meeting In The Dark

I flicked off the flood-light
and stepped out from the barn door.
The moonless night had calmly
reclaimed the yard without a pause.
I could then perceive the stars,
silver-crisp on the first cold night of Autumn.
I stayed a time and strained my neck.
The stars sprayed my moist eyes
gleaming as if they'd slipped
onto smooth ice at midnight.

My attention started with a sudden change
in the wind, a sudden burst in the tree-tops.
Dead sunflowers drooped their heads beside me.
Something like footsteps scratched in the dirt,
 and my breath became very still.
I knew then that the night was aware of me,
neither friend or killer, just sunless and cold,
and me afraid.


Jeffrey Shafer



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