ONE SMALL CANDLE

The soft night wakes me - 
a black night full of clouds
when even cats are silent.
From the yard come
cool green scents
that taste of growing mint.
Distorted shadows
stretch across the bedroom walls
but quake and scatter
with the flickering
of one small candle.
Gossamer curtains shiver 
at the chill touch
of a questing breeze.
Night welcomes the rain,
a guest with soft voice
and parlor manners,
dancing a barefoot dance
on slippery leaves.
This is a night made of
longing and memories.
I am wrapped in the night,
I close my eyes,
I sleep.

			Lucille Murphy