Nature By Night Poem by Pete Crowther

Slowly the sun
sinks in the west
leaving the land
lonely, forlorn
lit only by
light of the moon.

Things of the night
shun what is bright.
Hear the owls hoot
hunting the small
creatures that dread
death from the sky.

High in the dark
under the stars
leather-winged bats
flitter and flap.
Better by far
biding indoors.

Wait for the dawn,
return of the sun
when we may see
what we prefer
Nature to be—
sweetness and light.