In my room –
when velvet black undulates in the depths of night
I am secure, cosseted, nurtured.
Encased in my duvet cloud
toes peeking out, stretching towards the radiator as it clinks and clangs, expanding and contracting
I listen for the background ‘hisssshhhh’ as water rushes through the pipes, molecules racing along in their H2O hamster wheel.
The French door is open behind the blackout blind –
Aeons earlier I had pressed the smooth metal handle, turned the angular key (I can still feel the impression its cold corners left on my fingers), sensed the bolts shudder and slide in casings worn smooth.
Night air clamoured, grappling to fill the void as indoor warmth sighed to the heavens in almost mute supplication
The damp breath of Nature caressed me, gooseflesh prickled and tiny hairs stood to attention –
Creeping-creature sounds surround me now as I recline, supine, feline.
I taste the earth in the air as the world relaxes into its darkest hours –
the delicate tip-toe of the urban fox, an owl screech to wake the slumber-bound
and the frantic flutter of a moth, searching for a shaft of light around which to dance her dance of the mad.
In my room, in the depths of night, all of this can be found.