2 AM

Peeking out.
Peeking out.

Silence all around

The stars on the steppe

As I shine my beacon

On the hardened earth,

Trying to sense my way

Back to the home

That really isn’t mine,

But is mine for the time

That is kept on the watch

I keep in my pocket.

Nothing can be heard

From the two-story house

That holds many more

Tales than you would

Perhaps expect it to;

Unassuming red roof hosts

African wallpaper in

The side room and windows

Adorned in Christmas lights.

Crunching steps break

The coolness in the air

As I hear distant whistles

And the occasional

Barking of a mangy dog,

Not looking to provoke,

Only to protect,

Unaware that my presence

Is only temporary.

No life on the street,

No life in the homes,

Only myself as I trip

Through overgrown weeds

With spiked seeds

That stick to my shoelaces;

The creaky gate not quite

So boisterous this evening

As I lay my head down

And join the rest,

Perchance to dream.

Composed 07/27/2012

Author’s Note: When darkness falls upon a small village, and nobody is out and about, the silence of it all is one of the most interesting sensations one can experience. It does seem that the sounds follow you, though, as you shuffle your way home.

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