Many times on a summer evening along about sunset, Mary and I move our porch chairs out on the lawn and watch the lights come on in our condominium. Sensors control all the stairwell lights and streetlights and they all come on at different times. It's a somewhat nonsensical activity, yet it becomes a calming period of the evening. We live in a very quiet neighborhood, and except for the occasional neighbor coming home or the wail of a siren in the distance, only the birds can be heard as they sing their final evening songs.

One evening in 2003 I was sitting on the lawn taking all this in, when some poetic images began to unfold in my mind. After retiring indoors, I sat down and wrote this poem. I hope you like it.

- The Old Professor

The Evening Lights


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Time to Retire
On summer's eve, when day is done,
And daytime cares are almost gone,
I pull my chair out to the lawn
To watch the evening lights come on.

One streetlight glows and then another;
One's nearby, but most are further.
Their order never changes much
When darkness brings her gentle touch.

Which one is first, its light to burn?
And which is last to take its turn?
Each staves off night a little longer,
But darkness seems a little stronger.

A Mocking Bird breaks into song;
Perhaps her mate is gone too long.
She climbs atop the highest tree;
I guess she hopes that he will see.

Now only crickets break the spell,
As fireflies flicker in the dell.
My watch is ended; day is done.
You see, the star-lights just came on.

Copyright © Jay D Weaver - Jun 23, 2003




The song playing in the background is an old folk song entitled, "Lady Mary." She's the wonderful lady with whom I spend this evening ritual.

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