dwelling place

by Judith McNeil

dwelling place

under a full moon
I wander through my neighbourhood
noting most houses have lighted windows
watching the rugby, I guess
I am the only one out
no cars, no animals, no barking dogs
an alien world
of winter without snow
I name the inhabitants
I don't know them
what do they do at night?
do they read, make love
or have some unusual hobby?
my immediate neighbour
carves up animals for meat
I hear his saw whirring at 2am
he has already slept a beer fuelled sleep
the moon casts an eerie glow on iron roof
eaves house the swallows' nest
I disturb them as I walk into my decrepit dwelling
the first sign of life
in these wee small hours

POET PROFILE

Judith McNeil lives in the Kaipara Hills and writes poetry almost daily.