Sentinals

 Evening settles on the village;

 each emerges slowly 

 to stand watch. Ever stoic, 

 grim mouths, 

 creased forehead,

 unflinching dark orbs witness all.

Standing ram-rod straight,

as ticket holders lean into the elements,

Aglow.  Their gaze never wavers. Sentinels at

their post, illuminating the way for travelers.

At attention at the station,

dozens surround it, stretching

down nearby streets; they await

those walking home.

Flat-topped

uni-browed,

facade:

Streetlamps; familiar legion of

stone cold, silent sentinels.