Sometimes, when it's the quietest part of night, a time when the moon has lulled the world into a deep sleep as if she needed to be sure every creature had fully rested before her blazing husband rose with the new day, and not even the crickets dare make a sound for fear of upsetting their queen of the night, I like to sit with my knees draw to my chest, hands loosely clasped around them, toes hiding in the sheets of my unmade bed, eyes closed, allowing myself to replay every wonderful, joyful moment of the day, head resting on the window, which is wide open allowing the night breeze to enter into my home and add to the quiet peacefulness a slight chill that makes a warm blanket that much more desirable. As I sat there one brisk winter night, the cold like little needles pricking my skin, something upset the peacefulness that the full moon had brought. At first I couldn't make out what could possibly have disturbed such a tranquil setting that I was so gratefully enjoying. Suddenly, so suddenly I couldn't tell when the disturbing sound ended and the new sound started, a glorious melody came from the woods where not but a few hours before I had played a charming game of hide and seek with my young siblings. The music was so beautiful, so awe-inspiring I could not just sit and enjoy it from the comfort of my bed. My inquisitive mind would not allow me to do so. I forced my body, which, unlike my mind, was not willing to find out what the heavenly sound was, to get up and make it's way to the back door of my little home, grabbing my father's working boots and hunting jacket along the way. Even though it was cold, the kind of cold that freezes any uncovered flesh with one touch, I left the safety of my warm home, tugging my boots on and wrapping my coat closer around me as I headed towards the angelic music, the music that came from somewhere in the woods as if every woodland creature, every flower, every blade of grass had opened it's mouth to let the quiet peacefulness of it's heart to flow through the ears and into the soul of all who were willing to listen.
A Brisk, Cold Night
April 30, 2012