It's 12:43am and I'm outside. The darkness sits on my shoulders,
hangs off the curve of my chin,
has settled on my spine, and engulfs the whole of my body.
I have always thought that the night-time was inherently intimate-
the way it coats the world in a thick blanket,
like a lover to a worn-out partner,
finally slowing its business, its noise, its chaos,
all the way down,
as its expanse settles over the horizon.
It's then that I love,
when the buildings, the people, the trees have all settled gently to rest.
That near-silence of the night-time in nature when not much stirs:
when one can hear the cricket's song,
and the bird rustle in his nest,
the lizard scampering sideways,
and the moth's wings as they float on a small breeze,
that one can now hear too,
whispering through the trees.