The Hour of the Wolf

The cock was sleeping soundly
For it was not yet the break of dawn
And so it did not notice
The sprinklers going off on the lawn

The streets were sleeping soundly
Save a lonely streaking van
Nothing much was around at the time
Except the man who ran

The sands were not warm
They don’t hold for too long
Though some clung to the soles
Singing a soft wet song

The sea was cold
And quiet as death
No waves broke the sound
Of the man who caught his breath

Blurred was his vision
As sweat poured down his face
But rest he could not
Lest he miss his pace

So ran the man with a plan
Into the distant dark
No lights lit up his path
As he headed towards the park

Cobbled stones
Layered weed
Soft was the night breeze
When he finished his deed

Beaten benches
Crunchy leaves
It was then and there
He rested his greaves