The Dark’ning Night

Shall I compare thee to the buzzing of an electric sun?

Its hum looping along a compacted wire

And issuing an amber glow that turns its back upon the dark'ning night?

Truly, I never laugh more than in your presence,

My smile drawn out by an oaken bucket that slaps my darkened wellstones

Reminding them that it gets an occasioning privilege to view the light.

Though sometimes its brightness fails, and it holds dependence upon its tethers, your bulb never dims or sputters 

No matter the things that tax your supply.

Edison nor Maxim nor Swan 

Could ever have conjured up a way to bring this 

Light to me.