Literature
Stranger
The ebb of evening wrapped in its midnight
was a friend, even in my crib,
but a night light near the floor cast forth
shadows stretching across to the door,
cracked open, hiding the stranger I never saw,
but heard its raspy breath,
for it's the little ones who cannot name it, but
their minds fit in between,
between the ribs where I sat, crouched looking
out watching. waiting, and knowing.