Inner Woman Volume 2

In the wee hours

the witching hours

the city still buzzing

the traffic still whizzing

Quiet is a memory

of silver moon

crescent

and star lit harmony

The curtains billow

the wind’s hand

stirring, night’s

Coolness blurring

the day’s angry

blurting

And the moon winks

as he sinks

another hour passes

pearlescent gleam

touching each window

seen in the city’s

canyons and chasms

The metropolis

pulses, quiet gathers

the magic hour

between moon set

and alarm’s set

to rouse the giant

who never slept