The Night Is Heavy (After Tu Fu)
The day is a clock without a face.
With solemn grace, the moon
falls into its customary place.
Time means nothing to it.
Stars appear like lanterns,
but they show no path.
Like the night, life is unkind.
In the dim moonlight
an owl spies a rodent,
crawling in the wet grass.
He’s relentless in his search.
Watching his pursuit,
my face is ashen
in the window’s clear glass.
• • •
George Freek is a poet/playwright living in Belvidere, Illinois. His poetry has recently been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. His poems have appeared in Trade West Review, The Cape Rock, Limestone, and The Sentinel Poetry Quarterly. His plays are published by Playscripts, Inc., Lazy Bee Scripts, and Off The Wall Plays.