Reflections after work

I've sat servile; still,
for so very long, long
enough to watch the sky
turn at once from its
very darkest hue
unto a most serene
sort of blue.

So long as to watch
the descent of Sun be
succeeded by the rising,
crescent moon, which shone
a sort of ghostly white
and later, upon tall blades
of grass; a sliver of silver
cased in dew.

And sitting, always, always
wakeful, with nothing else ado
but wait, my body frigid,
freezing cold and vainly
striving for warmth: I shake,
meditatively, my vigil keeps
me watching as the world
moves by; I see the flight
of birds and bats flit
loftily in the night time sky.
I stare at holes within
the floor; those both
natural and made by man,
and gazing deeply into
nothing, am consolidated
on what I am.