The Prowler

A ball of fury diminishes
A cresent of calm surrender awakens
dark night
deep silence
The day relinquishes into surrealism

Footsteps on pavements cease to exist
The swish of a biker heightened in the peace
stale air
sweet silence
The night wind croons a cradlesong

Softly, slowly, slinking on all fours
It lurks in the darkness, looking for its prey
Watching, waiting, crouching on its toes
The night prowler has awaken, playing its little game

A quarry spotted, a pounce, a growl
Thrash cans crash, a near fatal collision
A hiss of seizure, a squeak of defeat
The prowler continues with its game

A glow strange to the night emerges
The shadows recede from illumination
balmy morning
broken silence
The break of dawn the prowler's dusk