Nights

Mostly warm nights with windows open wide
are filled with cries and sobs.

Visitors invisible through treetops.
This is where the year draws to an end.

A student who is a pedestrian in the street
and a drowning man in the sea
becomes a tiny saint
in some family alcove.

There, the night has come. You’ll know me
by my footsteps and by the shape of my shadow.