Friday, September 3, 2010

Childhood Sleep

The night has turned from deep navy to black. There's a kind of pattern to the crickets outside my window, but there is no break in their sound-- they don't pause for air. They tirelessly bring childhood sleep in the white country house with the wrap around porch and creaking floor boards that was my home until I turned 17.

I miss that feeling of isolation, knowing our house was removed from other houses, tucked away and safe, corn stalks standing sentinel on either side for miles.

Tonight the sound of cars underlies the crickets, reminding me I am not in my childhood home, though I may still enjoy that crickety childhood sleep.

'Night.


2 comments:

  1. You're so good at atmosphere. I don't even think that way. I should make an effort to think about atmosphere more, when writing. Yeah.

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  2. Now if I just had a story to go with it... lol ;)

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