The spring chill
Never easy to ignore,
Beds down the dusk.
And the camellia tree
That sparkled only
Twelve hours before,
Shakes black
As the skulk unleashes.
Hands cover ears
Waiting for the sun,
The great deceiver,
To arrive
Imperceptibly,
Never revealing its
Companion's misdeeds,
Until the ever present
Warning of birdsong
Laments the break
Of day, once more.