Night this time is deserted backyard
With moon pale and listless in trees.
The dogs somewhere seem in a pain,
Stomachs held down with leftovers.
I go over to stick fence only to stare
Darkness beyond it, where it begins
With no end in sight, except cricket
Whose music only is giving it shape.
Nocturne takes into account cricket,
The dog’s howl in snout raising pain,
A pale moon at someone’s backyard
But not a rope on well acting snake.