The world at night
There is a tenderness I feel for the world at night
the cool breeze blooming out of the darkness
the humans withdrawing alone to their pools of light
electricity seeping from veined windows
the rustle of unseen animals—birds, squirrels—
leading lives we do not know
the arc of flashlights crossing the darkness of the foot bridge
the dogs barking, first one, then a different one
the trees like black blossoms breathing into the air
the clank of cutlery as people eat outside
their voices carrying up to the stars,
who look down upon all of us below
in the darkness, the world seems closer together
and yet the mystery is greater
the sharp camera-light of day softens
the shadows pull us in, sweet and cool
(have you noticed that your camera can never capture the moon the way it really is? not the moon crisp and pock-marked, or a distant blur, but the mystery of how it whispers to us through its veiling of clouds, the way it beams and beckons)
doesn’t your skin feel softer in the darkness?
your senses more alight, attuning to what surrounds you
in this age where we block everything we don’t want to see with light and noise
what if we all simply stood outside in the dark
for a few minutes
letting the cold air caress us
seeing how vast and how small the world really is,
remembering that we are all part of the night.
So beautiful, gentle, true....Thank you, Callie.