It's late, I don't know what hour it is, only that I am the only one awake. I quietly step outside, careful not to wake those who are already dreaming. I am in my own world right now. The night is warm, comforting. 71 degrees. The day's humidity has been replaced with night's soft stillness. I walk to the spot in the field where the house's porch light cannot reach; the dew on the grass cools my toes. I sit and the wet blades tickle my legs. I take out a cigarette and put it off-center between my lips. Pulling a lighter from my dress pocket, I light the tobacco and the peach taste on my tongue is tarnished with smoke. I exhale; the smoke seems thicker than it is during the day, a light gray contrast to the dark sky. The night's atmosphere is a dusty blue-violet color that you can only see out in the country, where no artificial light damages the view. The woods are completely black against the sky. Inside the shadows of the trees are small, quick flashes like cameras at a football game. Thousands of tiny fireflies trying to find their perfect match, another who is in sync with their illumination. A soul mate. The flickers give the trees a supernatural glow. The nighttime woods hold an ancient magic that most don't get to experience during the day, and i feel special knowing I am the only one seeing this right now. I take another drag and listen to the sounds that give the still air life. A soft melody of chirps from the frog pond at the bottom of the hill reaches my ears. High soprano sounds are accompanied by the occasional bass croak; flutes and violins playing to the beat of a drum. I exhale gray smoke through my nose. A wind stirs the air and goosebumps rise on the arms even though the breeze is warm. I lay back into the grass that needs to be cut and stare up at the sky. I listen and look and feel the world around me as if I'm on some alien planet. A whole new world comes alive while we sleep, dream. I take a last pull from my cigarette and stub it out in the lawn next to me. I stand and begin my walk back inside. The lighter in my pocket weighs down the left side of my dress. The night is alive.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Summer Night
It's late, I don't know what hour it is, only that I am the only one awake. I quietly step outside, careful not to wake those who are already dreaming. I am in my own world right now. The night is warm, comforting. 71 degrees. The day's humidity has been replaced with night's soft stillness. I walk to the spot in the field where the house's porch light cannot reach; the dew on the grass cools my toes. I sit and the wet blades tickle my legs. I take out a cigarette and put it off-center between my lips. Pulling a lighter from my dress pocket, I light the tobacco and the peach taste on my tongue is tarnished with smoke. I exhale; the smoke seems thicker than it is during the day, a light gray contrast to the dark sky. The night's atmosphere is a dusty blue-violet color that you can only see out in the country, where no artificial light damages the view. The woods are completely black against the sky. Inside the shadows of the trees are small, quick flashes like cameras at a football game. Thousands of tiny fireflies trying to find their perfect match, another who is in sync with their illumination. A soul mate. The flickers give the trees a supernatural glow. The nighttime woods hold an ancient magic that most don't get to experience during the day, and i feel special knowing I am the only one seeing this right now. I take another drag and listen to the sounds that give the still air life. A soft melody of chirps from the frog pond at the bottom of the hill reaches my ears. High soprano sounds are accompanied by the occasional bass croak; flutes and violins playing to the beat of a drum. I exhale gray smoke through my nose. A wind stirs the air and goosebumps rise on the arms even though the breeze is warm. I lay back into the grass that needs to be cut and stare up at the sky. I listen and look and feel the world around me as if I'm on some alien planet. A whole new world comes alive while we sleep, dream. I take a last pull from my cigarette and stub it out in the lawn next to me. I stand and begin my walk back inside. The lighter in my pocket weighs down the left side of my dress. The night is alive.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment