I rarely get to see the night anymore. I put the kids to bed, often slipping into my pjs at the same time (they're warm and comfy), settle in to relax for the evening and generally conk out within an hour. I've always leaned slightly toward being a morning person in general, but the kids have made me even more so. They are up with the sun (and sometimes before the sun), which means I am too. And by the time they are finally in bed for the night, I'm done.
But there is something truly magical about the night. It's almost like an entire world just waiting to be discovered... Everything in the daylight is sharp and clear, but the night is full of blurred shadows and silhouettes. So every once in a while I like to rediscover the night... and the magical silence (which I get so little of in waking hours) which accompanies it.
I was going through some of my old journals and came across a poem I wrote several years ago... fresh out of college and in my "teaching" days (if you can call what I did that). I'll share it here, because I can... I have no idea if it's good or not as I'm horribly out of practice in the poetry department, but here you go... just for you:
night musicshe stealssilentlyacross the sunless roomsearching her loversleepinghe ishiding his realityin his realm of hallucinationotherwise known asdreamsand she loves him more because of itshe seduces himin his real-less realityand enhances his nature with her ownthey mergeinto a moment of magicwhere all things shimmerand the last glimmerof realityfadesbut morning comes and life awakensleaving his lover alone(28 may 1999)