The sprinkling of rain on the tin roof becomes sporadic eventually giving way to silence as another rain cloud travels east. Sleep is elusive tonight and I lay awake staring into the darkness listening to the sounds that begin to fill our small cinder block house on top of the hill.
The rusted blue refrigerator, who delivers shocks to the unwary, hums to itself in the corner of the dining room. Pure mountain water drips from the tap, tinking hypnotically upon a silver spoon. The wind begins to howl beyond our front door, clawing through the kitchen shutters and shaking the house. It threatens to rip our drying clothes from the line and tells me so by rattling the fragile window panes. But it never lasts long. Soon the night has composed itself and I can once again hear the katydids singing distantly through the wet darkness.
Other sounds can only be imagined. A hungry wolf spider tip-toes across the cold brown tile floor following the pitter-patter of a roaming cockroach. I envision the orb spider suspended above our small, hard bed. I see her twitch then regain her position in the center of her web.
If listen closely, I swear I can hear the clouds dragging heavily through the charcoal sky. A tiny star emerges briefly through the flowing, transient haze, recalling ice on crystal, and quickly disappears.
My eyes have become heavy and my breathing long and deep. I listen as the night is carried by the wind and moves with the cricket's song. It is taken from our hilltop down into the sleepy town below and back again. I finally give in to this midnight lullaby and I dream until dawn.
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| Night settles upon Cédral |
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