At Night Poem by Ian Keenan

Since my day began
I have been searching for the gold
hidden in the chinks
between rocks.

I have been digging
in many places
and ways,
but at the slightest touch
the rocks shift
and my sight is blocked;
my hands are bloody,
and my day is old,
its strength ebbing in the shadows.

At night dreams
drop and lift me,
making and breaking up
the crowds
of which I have dreamt
so many times,
of men and women
and their small affections.