It is very quiet

It is very quiet

At night in genteel resorts

In spring before the onset of summer

When the pastel shades are discoloured

By an influx of city dwellers

Throwing themselves into leisurewear

As a means of escape

At midnight there is peacefulness

In rurality

Streetlamps in sunflower focus

Oases for the nightcrawlers

Unavoidable moth traps

Mushroom fairy circles

Stretched out into the middle distance

On one side of the road

For some reason,

Probably linked to cost

Certainly not to daylight saving

Fruit bats fly very low

The beat of their dry wings

Clearly audible over the fizz

Of the sodium burners

It is all a matter of degree

But even here there is darkness

Lurking in the shadows

As an underbelly exposes itself to an uneasy transaction

The evidence deposited on the ground

Brushed into corners

A needle exchange partially obscured by ribbed latex

Dirty secrets wrapped in silver paper

Passed from hand to hand

The light from a bedroom window

Unguarded comments made

Into the silence

Between lamp light and midnight

Secrecy is unavoidable

When hypocrisy is part of the landscape

So many people are locked in closets

Shouting the loudest

Complaining about not being heard

When decisions are made

To be open-minded

It takes all manner of things

To happen simultaneously

For the colour of the sky

To resemble an aurora

But in some small way

If you can make it home

Before changing into a pumpkin

Then there will always be a tomorrow

To count your blessings

Along with your pennies

As compensation for the sharing

Of a picturesque seaside idyl

With the neon affiliation

Of an urban congregation.