A midnight ambiance arrayed
In cricket chirps and cars,
Machines that hum below the Moon;
A vacuum for the stars.
A power greater than the brush
Consumes the hedgerow's noise;
It sucks the sound into its own,
Becomes the night, the void.
A night erupts when engines sound.
The hushed crescendo, massed
Together: in the fray but not
Aroused, just droning past
And softening the night around.
There's times a man must drive away
Alone without the Sun;
What mission does he undertake
With twilight looking on?
A time I made a night sojourn,
A friend with medicine
Parlayed with me beneath the void
Where once the stars had been.
A highway road alone at night's
A thrill with just my lamp,
A darkened ruin speeding by
With sparse illumined camps.
The parkway has two garrisons
Or more, but not for me,
Encampments cadred by their lamps
Like holy steelclad trees.
With awe a dim celestial flame
I see recursively
In avatars of a machine
In pairs of pairs of three;
With awe I think mankind more safe,
Designed to find a way
To last if they can make a grove
Of light where nothing stays.
A dark road consecrated by
Its eerie loneliness,
A ritual light quality
For no one, nothing blessed.
I see the asphalt altar pass
Into the night behind
I feel a reverence for speed,
With awe feel light decline.
A place for my poems 