first light

the haunting capricious shadow of darkness
scatters down windswept streets
darting in and out of alleyways
knowing all the shortcuts
light fades
silhouetting icy breath
the high tide of regret
spilling over the river bank
piling up in empty lots
hiding in dead ends
face turned away from passers by
eliciting no invitations
preferring it’s own company
yet fancying itself a good listener
learning much
knowing when to intercede
when hope is lost
washed up on the rocks
wading out into itself
dragging pretend solutions
by their flailing feet
up past the break water
onto bleeding sand
pounding its chest
forcing out what can only be perceived
as the gospel truth
silently disappearing into the crowd
to watch as controllers take charge
their contacts on scraps of paper
pined to damp overcoats
saviors in their own minds
believing in their own Godly powers
safety in numbers
only their numbers are collected
in bank books and never shared
brought out on lonely winter nights
to use as fodder to feed inner fires
the only warmth they are good for
because human companionship
deserves warmth
the touch of human flesh
not the cold, damp darkness
of selfishness