The sky is dense in periwinkle, as a handful of stars float in the early twilight. Objects appear sharp across the horizon as the earth falls to shadow and day’s light holds a bit longer to a vanishing mountain range.
I am alone.
There is a rhythm to these sojourns. A natural gate that draws the breath and heart rate down. I smell a mix of the swamp and fresh melted snow. The tall windows of a nearby house are completely awash in the night sky, giving the illusion that east is west. I see the ripple of ducks swimming silently in the dark.
I am not alone.
The earth is a conversation the Universe is having with me. It speaks of love and passion. Richness and possibility. Renewal and evolution. Its song seeps up from the soil through the soles of my feet. Every step a serenade. My breath a kiss with a wind that invigorates my life force, as only a lover can. The night has become a devotional played on cricket backs to me.
The light slips over mountain crests, as silent as a furry moth and rises again within my breast, lighting my vision for home.
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