His hands upon the folded coverlet
embrace in poise beyond his years. The darkness,
settling on his tender eyes, begins
to take familiar shapes. On wall and ceiling
sliding headlights are a swift reprieve.
Beyond the glass that keeps the weather out
branches frisk in starlight, leaves whisper: Child,
remember, He is watching. Therefore may
your little hands not now unbind their stillness,
your fingers not fare forth to bring defilement.
Be gladly blinded in beneficent darkness,
and if you dream, may it be a dream of angels:
one beneath you and the other above you,
watching, waiting. Child, the toms are crying,
for they are mad with murder and the moon.
Lie still, and when you wonder, do not wander,
but lie in wait, for One is coming soon
who made such things as murder and the moon.
embrace in poise beyond his years. The darkness,
settling on his tender eyes, begins
to take familiar shapes. On wall and ceiling
sliding headlights are a swift reprieve.
Beyond the glass that keeps the weather out
branches frisk in starlight, leaves whisper: Child,
remember, He is watching. Therefore may
your little hands not now unbind their stillness,
your fingers not fare forth to bring defilement.
Be gladly blinded in beneficent darkness,
and if you dream, may it be a dream of angels:
one beneath you and the other above you,
watching, waiting. Child, the toms are crying,
for they are mad with murder and the moon.
Lie still, and when you wonder, do not wander,
but lie in wait, for One is coming soon
who made such things as murder and the moon.
