Saturday, 22 August 2015

The Promise

Warm, busy days accentuate the longing for the soon-to-come cool nights. Colours are bright and sharp and contrast with the clear sky today, and I’m not short of company and affection. But I’ve secretly noted the discarded nest, the plumping berries and the halo of brown around the edges of the horse chestnut leaves.

Smoke from the day’s bonfire hangs in the air, gently suffocating. I seek a cooler place away from the embers and wait for the night to wake up. I’m surrounded by low, gentle sounds, each in itself unobtrusive but together a cushion that muffles the clarity of darkness. The hum of traffic a mile or so away, the low call of a train, a rustling that could be the last of the flames crackling or the wind in the leaves or some spindly-legged creature over there.

It’s not quite dark enough to see the stars clearly, though the moon is bright and in its first quarter tonight. I’ll sit here a while and wait for the fire and the smoke to subside, the new moon to appear, and the long, cool nights of solitude.