Night Nomads

It’s two and you, two dogs and it

The hidden light that powers the grit

Of rubber spinning in the night

Beneath the blazing arc-lights’ cold

No warmth escapes the darkened scold

Of coffee, burgers, brands unsold

But we, Night Nomads, are unclean

As hounds, will reave your tables, mean,

With hunger and disease will you demean

We won’t, of course, though banned within

We’ll sit outside and freeze our skin

And dream of home and that which lies within

Of discipline and love, much do we know

The golden eyes, adoring, show

As fur and skin and distance flow

Within these cut-loose tarmac places

Our outstretched love fatigue displaces

As worship follows drivers’ stony faces

Hungry, cardboard-coffeed, quiet and cold

Our Nighttime Nomads, young and old

defeat the miles to morning, gold.

For us…

©Stephen Tanham

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3 Comments Add yours

  1. This is a really lovely poem.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. stevetanham says:

      Thank you, Robbie. Written at two in the morning sipping coffee outside a motorway services, with two sleepy dogs. On our way back from Cornwall.

      Like

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