The Suburban Woods

by Carl Houghton

As I stroll within my

Suburban wood,

I sense the night’s rebirth.

The light turns a warm orange—

incandescent

from living room windows;

And the steel sky is lit by the

Infinite expanse of twinkling

city lights.

The cool twilight air feels gray

Against my face,

And pink autumn breeze blankets me

In peace.

I hear the soft, slurred rush of a distant stream

of traffic;

It hums a background for the crickets’

Lively lead.

Under my feet I feel the crackling snap of

crumbly concrete

As I walk beneath the shadows of a towering grove

of telephone poles.

The daylight fades, and

The woods echo with the night’s noisy hush—

And the faraway cries of hungry

children

coming home for supper.

Art by Anneliese Warnick

Photography by Candy Young