The walls of the house mute their talk but they are loud enough to wake a light sleeper.
I get up quietly enough not to wake L. and I walk out through the front door to stand on the porch in the dark. They are quiet when I get there but I call out.
“Here am I, one of you!”
They are in the trees about 50 feet away–halfway between my neighbor’s house and mine.
About eight of them respond, each returning my greeting individually.
“I see you.”
“I hear you.”
“There you are.”
“You are one of us!”
“Come away, the night is before us.”
“The night is warm and there are many delicious mice!”
“Ha! Cousin!”
“Dude!”
“Woo Hoo!”
Their mood is…
lively,
but there is something different about them.
They are more…
subtle.
I remember leaping off the porch, into the air;
the feel of it as I gather it and push it below and behind me,
again,
and again,
as I wheel around toward them.
How quietly that all happens.
The house grows smaller as I climb;
25, 50, 75 feet.
The night transforms from a dark place of indistinct forms
to a place of light, and sharp images.
There are so many sounds, where there were none before.
They wait until I am almost upon them and then turn and we take flight through the Oaks.
ϾϿ ϾϿ ϾϿ
What I don’t understand,
is being back in bed now.
I love how the night transforms! But at the end there is always home.
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When you say that MM, I imagine E.T. replying, “Home, HOME!” 🙂
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You just weren’t ready for the dream to be finished. Dreaming of flying can be most cathartic…
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Oh yeah!
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A fantastic dream-of-flight poem, by the way; and with companions, to boot…
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Thanks Lindy Lee!
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This is absolutely wonderful, Russ! What makes it wonderful is the mystery of the opening and the power of the details you interweave throughout the piece. It also touches on human flight, the age old dream and vision, touching primordial places in the reader. It unleashes ancient human traditions, magically transports them to the moment being written about, and transcends reality into a moment when:
The night transforms from a dark place of indistinct forms
to a place of light, and sharp images.
There are so many sounds, where there were none before.
This is really really good work.
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Thank you Thomas,
It strikes me how deaf, dumb, and blind we are in relation to many of the birds, animals and other living beings. And how much of the night we miss because of that.
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Boy do I agree with that, though I’m afraid we’re just as blind during the day–too much concerned with our own kind.
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