Like Frost ,I too am acquainted with the night on the sound- stopping, silence- raking watchman’s beat. I do not know why and I am not Frost but like Frost’s my watchman beats the sad road.
I have decided to fix this watchman in the Himalayas where stick beating watchmen descend from.The midnight road is hollow from below and side streets are dark and lonely and not deep.
The Himalayan watchmen are stick walkers of the night as old poets sit near machines of words.The old poets think watchmen are in their felt caps, sad in the inside roads of their lives.
(Inspired by the watchman in Robert Frost’s poem Acquainted with the night”)