I am claimed by the ambience,
the mood, the closing down of day.
Temperatures plummet and heels are hastening away.
Away from dark skies, starless.
The moon; half full, half- who knows where.
pays no heed to the need of light below.
A grey gloom, like a veil, hangs momentarily-
then plunges into night.
Street lights enhance diminutive snowflakes in their ark,
only to die on my shoulders or make slush at my feet.

Slip-sliding my way home.
Curtains are closing;
In warm kitchens, smells, and smiles,
for hot stew and chilled wine are the order of the moment. .
Sleepy children, well fed, are tucked up in bed.

A perfumed woman al-together mine, yes mine
winds her tired body around my own
drinking in my every waking moment,
until at long last the new ambience close eyes.

(C) Bebe Evans all rights reserved