Night comes too soon

Here now skyline assembles fire.
The sun collects up to leave.
Its bright following paled,
suddenly all goes. Dusk rushes
in, like door closed on windowless room.
Children go a little sad.

Fowls come in ones and groups
and fly up with a cry
and settle, in warm air branches.
Tethered pigs are lounging
in dugout ground.

Muzzled goat kids make muffled
cries. Cows call calves locked away.
Last donkey-riders come homeward
calling 'Good night!'
Children go a little sad.

Knives-making from flattened
big nails must stop. Kite ribs
of tied sticks must not develop.
Half shapes growing into bats
and balls, into wheels and tops
must cease by night's veto.

And alone on shelves, in clusters
on the ground in corners, on
underhouse ledges, these
lovable embryos
don't grow in sleeptime.
Children go a little sad.

Bats come out in swarms.
Oil lamps come up glowing
all through a palmtree village.
Everybody'll be indoors
like logs locked up.
Children go a little sad.

• illustrating this poem.