The Birds At Night
written by: Jessica Helen Brant
An intruder squats
on a dream—
luring in the dreamworld
with a sound
softer than sirens,
more resounding
than whispers
A night rider perches
on nerves—
snapping like twigs,
chirping like a backyard bird,
until the sun goes down
The chirping gets louder,
as dark blankets light
they diminish softly,
then pick back up
with the crescendoing
of a nocturnal chorus
of insects,
of barking dogs
to the rhythm
of a metronome
made of moonlight
The sun has vanished,
time for rest
to find some rest,
to stay restless,
to rest on time,
the kind on which
the restless relies.
Time
is nourishing
is as comforting as a pillow,
cushioning the body,
an incubator for nerves,
an amenity we attach to,
a comfort we cope with,
as familiar feeling
as the birds chirping
at night
Time lives here,
in our bodies cushioned so,
for as long as we can lay there,
moving hauntingly slow
the birds don’t stop chirping,
the dogs don’t stop barking,
the insect choruses
never cease
Time moves slow
for the night creatures,
existing on need.
- The Birds At Night - June 5, 2020
- Native Butterflies - January 26, 2017
