I'd sit out here all night if I'd the time.
It smells like dark, but only the good kind.
That crispy night-time smell, that's like a rhyme
that rhymes with what within a field you'd find.
This pleasant night, the first of all the year,
that wraps around your skin as like a suit,
the first that doesn't make you shrink and fear
when midnight rings its knell, so cold, so mute.
And there's a train. How rare to like the sound
at 2 AM when one should be asleep.
But nights like these allow one to be found
nearby the tracks, a fruitless vigil keep.
But there's the birds. Perhaps I'll take a song.
While waiting for the Sun to come along.