“I often think that the night is more alive and more richly colored than the day.”
-Vincent Van Gogh
A sphere of shadow exploding into
a million cawing crows. It seemed like a
cacophony of caws but sounded like
night’s symphony. I watched them take flight like
missing puzzle pieces into the night sky:
as though completing it, all flying home.
They were never alone: they were maestros
for an uncaring audience, who found
them to be nuisances. But at night I open
my windows and listen to them crow, caw.
Sometimes I pretend I’m their conductor
and I wave and sway to sounds of the night.
I think of men on motorcycles with
the streetlights passing them by like runway
lights to a plane departing, I think of
people dreaming and tossing and turning
in their abodes seeking peace, seeking rest.
I dream of falling asleep in railroad trains.
I listen to the sounds of the night and
in them, I found a strange, strange kind of joy.