The mind travels differently after dark
Somewhat like a drifter or spiraling spark
Suddenly senses are keened, as deep blue
Rolls over sky-scape and earth’s avenue
Night-thought is a rover; it touches with ease
Heart-harbored hunger and intricacies
The mind travels differently when it is night
Somehow the hurry of chores and daylight
Muddles its musing and orders its will
But oh, when the sun falls behind violet hills
Thought becomes pensive; a dancer of sorts
As over the whisper of years he cavorts
The mind travels differently beneath the stars
Tracing the tenure of Time’s tender scars
Lacing its fingers through faraway hands
Treading the silver of yesterday’s sands
For the mind is foot-loose and free as a lark
…a wayfaring traveler after dark
© Janet Martin
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I hope you enjoyed your pause on this porch and thank-you for your visit!