The darkness and quiet greets me like a blanket. The trees stand tall and calm after the high winds of recent days. Clouds fill the sky now, pregnant with tomorrow’s rain, reflecting the collected suburban lights. The neighbor’s porch light refracts into beads of brightness shining where its beams pass over the branches of the elder bushes.
The silence is most palpable at this hour, only broken by the occasional passing car. I imagine the faint sound of the trees and plants collectively exhaling, long and slowly, as they do through the night, after their great inhale in the light of day. I breathe in deeply, drinking in their gift of oxygen, breathing out gratitude to them.
Though the sky is no longer clear and our cloud cover has returned, winter’s new coldness has definitely arrived and remains noticeable.
The year is waning, the moon is waning, the leaves have almost completely abandoned the trees. It is surely a season of release. I exhale the tensions and worries of the day, and offer them to the land spirits, that they may be nourished by them as they are by the fallen leaves.
“Hail Spirits of the Night. May your eyes look on us kindly, and bless our dreams.”