I hear the approach of its day-weary moan,
As it parts insoluble night.
With deft dawdling duty to most unbeknown,
Full ablaze with its cargo of light.

It sighs to a halt at the end of its route,
And turns to head back whence it came.
Now empty of souls just the one last recruit,
Drifts aboard to its night-shine lay claim.

As if by a trade, or in deference exchanged,
The bus becomes dark; finds release.
Then soon to my senses once more is estranged,
As the terminus yields to night's peace.