nocturnal


where do poems go
on days so long and lithe
sunlight lolls all over
the sidewalks on lenore street,
stretches through mismatched fences,
meanders the verandahs until nine thirty

they must hole up, play solitaire,
wait out more flattering light --
streetlamps, porchglow, moon --
then lift their small heads,
nightcrawlers surfacing