The Nightwatchman

He walks
a lonely path,
tapping
his ritual stick.
A forlorn commotion
betraying the silence inside.

A sleepy dog
hastens her exit from the alley.
The snoring apartments
exclude him
from their sepulcher
of sleep.

Eagle-eyed guardian
of the macabre,
Spectator
to the shifting magic
of midnight dwellers,
He partakes
in their peculiar time travel,
As he continues
on his unwelcome beat.

A little above his head
A restless child in bed
taps her foot
in rhythm
with the swelling-fading
echo of his stick.