Deep Waters of 2:30am

2:30am. Deep in the Ox-Hour Lots.
Spectral cold, and if I draw back the curtains of this room?
Lights in the windows of the house next door.
A notebook on my bed, and another book, 'The Big Grey Man of Ben Macdhui'.
There is an old summer here, on my skin,
a certain light, a certain glance.
Deep spring-gothic, but we're
deep in the Ox-Hour lots instead.
I imagine I hear shouts in the distance
of streets I can't imagine
this late at night.