Night Piece**** Poem by Neil Young

owl hoots into the small hours of your nightshift

his mate replies... a faint sound far beyond the mainline
your porta-cabin flickers in the dark... a wall of tv screens
no one comes tonight to share your boredom

except a fox... whose poetry is silence
mooching in the waste ground out the back
camera three picks him up... a grainy shadow... like watching vhs

railyard rats are safe... its mice his watch-tower eyes are searching for