We heard a man’s voice last night, howling in the dark,
somewhere out in the fields. You said,
“Listen, can you hear that?”
we stopped, opened the window, leaned out into the night, waiting,
nothing, stayed very still & yet heard no one.
“Could be an animal calling?”
“There it is again!” you said, every time we went back inside,
as if by retreating we trigger that lonely despair.
“Could be someone calling their dog?” I suggested, trying to
lighten the mood, turning back, eager for a laugh.
“Sounds like they’re crying” you whispered, we stopped again,
letting the night in, riding silences that refused to carry
wounds, drawing pain back into it’s self, smothering the lonely
with comforting embrace. Then I heard it’s echo,
aloneness & the night, awaiting 4:00am & the ticking of clocks
without promise of respite.
Listening to ‘Highlife on the Move‘