The Dark

 The Dark

I’m an early riser, up before the sun.

Look out my darkened window, and see a shadow run.

Or was this mysterious motion merely in my mind,

A figment, a fabrication, of the overactive kind?

People used to fill the dark with beings outside their cave.

Wore fearsome masks, danced ‘round the fire, off their fears to stave.

So was this glimpse of gloomy movement a remembrance of those days,

A vestige in my neurons of Neanderthaler raves?

Or really was it a crook or beast ready to invade my space?

I will kindle today’s watch fires - OK, motion lights - just in case.