music of the night

Gnome3by Annette Lee03 Nov 2013

i am an old woman
lying alone in my bed
in the eerie half-light
of ready lights
on all the electronics
scattered about the room.
i shove a pillow against
the glare of the digital clock.

i am an old woman
listening to the night,
as countless old women have done
across immeasurable time,
wondering when the night will come
that never ends. you think i care?
i don’t care.
the night is peaceful.
in eager anticipation
of the approaching rainy season,
a few frogs croak cheerfully.
although there is the occasional soft hoot of an owl,
the birds are always silent at night.
now and then
the dead leaves blanketing the terrace
betray stealthy steps
of a creature on the hunt.
frantic rustling in the undergrowth
of the wild green belt down the hill
tells the tale of prey,
sometimes punctuated
with a strangled cry
or a defiant snarl.
coyotes howl from distant rocky points
on lonelier hills,
a nervous rooster crows,
a dog or two yip at the moon.
it is the music of the night.