Their Day's Begun Poem by Ernestine Northover

Footsteps echo down a narrow alley,
black cat on watch, stretches, expanding his claws.
Far away an owl hoots out a warning,
then silence returns, no banging of doors.

An eerie time reigns when darkness descends,
each noise seems louder, shattering the night.
And one’s hearing’s sharper, alert to sounds,
for anything strange can give way to fright.

Everywhere are shadows, lights are dim,
who would be brave, to venture out late.
Behind every bush is a spooky ghoul,
ready to scare you, and their niche vacate.

Footsteps echo down a narrow alley,
Dogs roam, searching for morsels to eat.
Dustbins rattle, hunting gains momentum,
inquisitive muzzles, scouring the street.

These are the hours for all things nocturnal,
bats fly, rats scuttle, for their day’s begun.
Nothing’s weird to these wide awake creatures,
only our footsteps will cause them to run.


© Ernestine Northover