And...

Rembrandt

Night Life

I have a primitive fear of darkness and know that I will soon regret this solitary walk into the village and wish myself safely back home.  Hedgerow rustling, a distant bark, wind stirring the leaves in the trees all conspire to fire my imagination and quicken my footsteps.  Once I used to walk the city streets at night without fear, overflowing with the confidence of youth, unaware of dangers waiting in the shadows and concealed threateningly around the corners.  Now pigeons noisily flapping from their roost at my approaching steps, can make my heart thump.  

And later I must reverse all this, make my way back to the lights of home, where I will close the gate, pause and gaze up at the blue-black sky.  Orion, the Plough and the North Star shine bright in the galaxy - far away, dazzling and belittling.  The owl’s screech brings me back to my own small safe space, the present and home. 

Leah Spencer June 2016