There has always been something eerie to it
like nature telling a lie:
full moon nights with the menacing clarity of instinct,
the winter sun glassy bright as a surge of fear,
foxfire shy as a figure caught out of the corner of your eye.

Even on a muggy summer night,
there’s a chill about the yellow bulb
in the corner of an air-conditioned room,
aloof as a stranger in your house.