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.