Darkness comes

When darkness comes rats are ready

By the hundreds they've primped and groomed 

.

They're slinking around, teeth are sharp

Slick, greasy, dragging hairy tails 

.

Rats will come to your castle home

They will come to my shack as well 

.

Before the dusk we must prepare

Keep the lights on, they'll stay away

 .

Photo, poem copyright, ©  Jimmiehov 2009, 2014, all rights reserved
 

Today I am linked with Grace at the Real Toads, Sunday's mini Challenge (link)

Grace introduced us to Gabriela Mistral and her poems.  This one of hers here below was inspiration for my attempt to show how it affected me.  I used the dusk idea, the animal too. 

Dusk

I feel my heart melting
in the mildness like candles:
my veins are slow oil
and not wine,
and I feel my life fleeing
hushed and gentle like the gazelle.

I was also inspired by Ms. Mistral's poem, Woman:  The Mad One (click to read it, three pages long).  It is a tale of what a concubine woman would experience when her 'master' would come up the stairs for their conjugal visit.  Nothing explicit, much implied was her style of writing.  It was a little scary.

That in turn reminded me of the rats who used to come into the shack where I was on guard at a radar site out in the middle of the desert.  I was in the Army, stationed with a group who had several Nike Missile Radar sites scattered over a few thousand acres in Texas 

We took turns staying in the 'shack' pulling guard duty.  We were allowed to sleep.  But I would always keep the lights on which meant getting up, going out, and refueling the generators in the middle of the night.  Otherwise the RATS WOULD COME, running up and down the braces on the wall, nailed to the stud boards.  I think a few of did get bitten by rats.

Could never let the lights go out 

If so those rats would surely come