in the country,

the crickets spew their warm melody,

singing the air to life.

you can sense it.

the mosquitoes, the deer,

the great horned owls.

all spiraling and twitching

in their nocturnal cacophony

in the suburbs,

the grating sound of a skateboard

shudders across the pavement,

and the sound of teenage boys

shouting through the stifling night air

drifts up through the skewed window,

slightly ajar,

drawing in the scent of their cigarettes

and cologne.

in the city,

a taxi idles up against the curb

as an ambulance slides around the corner.

the sound of sirens opens the air,

splitting the world into halves.

and the ones safe and sound in their beds

awake with a start

and drift toward the window.

and the ones on the streets look up

with a startled expression.

and the world is alive everywhere,

and asleep everywhere.

we wearily turn over in our beds,

drawing the covers tighter around our

twisted shoulders.

we creep out the window

and flatten ourselves to the ground.

and the stars we can see swim in

the moonlight.

and the stars we can’t see do as well.