The Mind Travels Differently After Dark

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