When Darkness Falls

When darkness falls they come,
slinking in after supper, sliding under beds
and pressing against the backs of closet doors.
They do not wait for the witching hour,
only for the shadows after sunset.

As I wash the dinner dishes I can see them
twining around the table legs, squatting in the pantry.
I can see them slither up the stairs as I go up
to give Jonathon his bath, and they wait
below his crib until he is safely tucked in.

They follow me to my room,
slip under the covers with me,
and worm their way into my dreams.