The Hours of Moths and Owls

Sukha: "Papa, you read the book of secrets while I play games, OK?"

My wife has taken my place in the night.
She stays up late with moths and owls,
Building things, battering lit panes, and hunting for the answers

Daylight too easily, glibly, marketably provides.
I have become a night sleeper,
A morning tea-drinker,

A grumpy-then-acquiescing father,
An afternoon napper like my Dad.
I have a daughter. I have a memory

Like an attic filled with decades
Of being up late and among the spiders

Hunting down theories who listened for owls
As the white-footed mice tilted brief ears, young.