And the Lark Sings

Description of a not-so-quiet night.

Listen to the lark sing, though you cannot see it.

Every night, before closing my eyes and humming myself to sleep, I notice the stillness of the night and the song of the lark. The man-made lights go off and I walk to my room, silently closing my bedroom door behind me so as to not wake up my now sleeping family. It is close to midnight, I've never been an early sleeper and I have slipped out of the good habit of the rising early. Pitch darkness is what I see before me, I blink several times to adjust my eyes to such serenity. Moonlight filters through my window, silently showing me the path to my bed, like shattered stars in the vast sky. I walk slowly to my bed, feeling the cold floor beneath my bare feet waking me up and inviting me to stay up a bit longer and talk to the air and sing to the moon.  It's always hard to refuse the calls of nature, but this time I have to abide to my sleeping time. I lay on the bed and pull the blankets over my moonlight bathed body, gazing dreamily to the white orb set against the dark, starlit sky. A stark difference indeed, but a welcome one nonetheless. How else can one attempt to enjoy the beauty of the night without the darkness that engulfs those precious jewels in the sky? The clouds in the sky are but the ragged remains of the afternoon as the moon sails through them, like a ship parting waves in the ocean.

I smile, knowing that I am bless with a view like this one every night. I let my mind wander into the silence of nature, waiting for the dreams to overcome my consciousness. A chirp, a song. That small sound breaks through the silence and seeps into my mind, and my heart begs for more. I turn around and stare intently out of the window, only to see the moon towering over the stars. The chirping continues, like a beautiful song in a broken record which I didn't mind listening to over and over again. A bird, I decide. The melodious singing from the little bird brings comfort to my soul and company to my loneliness. I stir in my bed and close my eyes, I part my lips and try to imitate the sound of my nighttime companion. Without knowing, I slip away into the land of dreams with the echoes of the song still ringing in my mind.

The next couple of nights the same song accompanies me until I fall asleep. I wish I can see the little joy producing the sound; a lark, I decide. This is something new to look forward to every  night. I whisper my gratitude to the air in hopes that my message is received by the greater forces of the universe and lie on the bed, willing myself into a peaceful night sleep. Everything I have to do now is silence my thoughts and let the lark sing. That has become my new lullaby, and sometimes the stars and the wind joins. A great concert indeed, everything from the comfort of my bed and staring out at the little things in nature.

The End

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