A Night post

 

A night post…

 

It’s quiet. The stars are humming.

The crickets gleaming.

The stars are shining light---The crickets shining sound.

To decipher, and transpose this song of night is to fall into the lullaby of sleep, and to be embraced by God’s arms, close mother nature’s soul.

Here, it feels in the three am hours…

Is a quiet waking place.

There the hum of minds are finally peaceful.

And my mind, is here, seeking the tuning fork of the planets and stars, and the wisdom of the earth and sky above and beneath me.

Here, on the edge of the sky, and eternity in my back yard.

In my tent. My fingers plunking away at the keyboard.

Am I glowing? I’m wondering. My computer glowing too much for my sister in the other tent, to see, and wake up?

Or are my fingers too plinky?

I’m not sure…

I’ve dimmed the computer screen as much as it can go…

Here’s hoping we are being courteous.

In the distance I can hear a tractor tractoring.

Dogs are barking, telling one another stories.

The night is loud, a beautiful loud.

The ground is damp from a flash flood that rained so much it flooded my tent, last Thursday. But it made the ground so happy, and it made my garden perk up. Which was very much appreciated, because I had been busy, and that rain was very much needed.

The stars are so beautiful, I feel like my computer screen is a little rude to the sky, to be so muchy in such a soft evening.

It is a gentle evening, so beautiful and lovely, in fact, that like my computer screen, my typing me, in it feels aware of all the parts of me that needs to be more in tune, in synch to nature.

It sooths all the rough edges of me, this night softness.

In such a soft gleaming night.

Here we are, the night, you, and I.

What of the cares of the day, or of tomorrow, or the past. Stories.

What stories are worth telling at this hour except stories that are soft, and dreams that are gentle, and sounds that sooth, that sing, and coo.

Bedtime.

And me an Indian in my little tepee.  Wealthy to have such a view, for my ears, and eyes. Such spaciousness. And such aliveness. A carpet of green. Birds to sing me awake in the morning.

A breeze to caress me.

Riches.

To be able to enjoy such things.

To be able to feel the stillness, and peace, though ripples come, and go.

Noise that comes. Bugs, or trains.

Yet this is life.

All the little bugs and moths are wanting to come into my tent for my laptop is bright enough to gather interest.

Trains are rolling by, so loud tonight.

Though the sound fills the night, the rumble eventually fades and the hum of crickets and the earth singing takes its place.

And so, I too, settle back, serine.

To know that though loud things pass, and rumble.

Still the crickets sing.

Still the night hums.

Still you can feel the trees watching, loving you, as you sleep beneath them.

Dogs are barking in the distance now.

And somehow it comforts me the simplicity of the night.

The thin fabric dome above me, a little house, a cocoon where I can love the night’s sky, and appreciate nature in a way that is patient, and enjoy one another’s company.  

The beautiful summer evening. Where we rest. And know despite all the moving, and sound, and stories.

Peace is our nature.

Rest is divine.

Space Is a place for music, and light, and beautiful sounds.

And in the morning we are restored, and when we rise, we remember the song of the peace of night,

And bring the sound of its gentle hum, into our day.