Moonless January night,
A cocktail of neon-white possibilities,
The stars sharpen their
Against a vestibule of
White on black,
A party of silence
Mistaken for sleep.
Somewhere across the avenue,
Two drinks deep into the new year,
The light-hearted laughter
Of a lady’s voice
Blows into the atmosphere,
A haunting, invisible smoke
That sends blackbirds to scurry
From their power-line perches,
A succession of receding wingspans
Face-painting shadowsAcross the twilight.
Written from a prompt at Warning The Stars Saturday.