Tonight, Waiting, and Waiting

A lone car with stars in its eyes

hums down the dark street, whistling
as it passes. The night of the new day

drops a screw from its hinge, and tilts
into the next day. The night of
the new week, sweet as honey, scrapes

like sore throat and soothes itself
with nursery rhymes. I sang you
all the funny voices — snorting

pig, querulous fowl, svelte and light
feline — do you remember? You
saved every cat you could, until

tonight. The night of the new year
gathers up cat cries in baskets
made for apples, lopsided and sweet,

rolling downhill fast as barrels.
All these nights are the same, heavy
with waiting for those starry eyes

to outshine the dawn. Did you know
if counting a day from sunset,
by dawn, the day is half gone?