Fear Not the Almost-Nighttime Walk
by Daniel L. Bacon
Feb 4, 2026
Sunset marks our certain spin—
light caressing field and skin;
lamplight humming, row on row—
trod on—the path calls—onward ho.
Fear not the almost-nighttime walk.
Fear not the almost-nighttime walk;
what creatures crawl, and slink, and stalk;
what sleeps by day, feigns bold by night—
what masks in moonlight—fright on fright.
Fear not the almost-nighttime walk.
Fight not who flees the coming day;
who rests in root, and cave, and clay;
who dares not face the noonday sun—
nor stomach signs of what’s to come.
Fear not the almost-nighttime walk.
Freeze not, when fixed with rabid eyes;
when what is small heaps size on size;
when rumoured strength is all but nought—
when times are dim, and dire, and fraught.
Fear not the almost-nighttime walk.
Faint not, nor shift your gate or pace—
behind all masks, there waits a face.
Lesser light casts shadows yet,
on all we lost but can’t forget.
Onward, into setting sun;
forward, til day is done;
the light takes wing, like circling hawk—
fear not the almost-nighttime walk.
Fear not the almost-nighttime walk.