It is for us to hold on
together, each waking
to what can be a new day,

not just another of
one foot in front of the other,
but rising in the early dark

knowing there will be the quiet
of street lamps and the moon,
its reflected light enough

even from the edges of
gathering clouds, a penumbra
assuring us all light

has not been shed. “Be still,”
it says, “wait” for the song
of night birds,

the whoosh of owl wings,
the faithful bark of that dog
a few streets over.