West Moor Land - Night Small Storm

I lie in my attic
Facing North
Close to the stars

Through a pane of glass
Like a patch of sky
As seen from the hold
Of a ship
Fragile protection, thin skin
That is all that protects me
From the elements

Why should I wake at 3am?
Do you call me?

Lying pensive in the dark
Full of thoughts
The stars disappear
Rain splatters down
Softly at first, then hard
Against the glass

The wind starts to howl
But I find it strangely comforting
Cocooned in my feathers
I feel safe and warm

Then it stops
Before I am washed clean
Or am lulled to sleep

Do you call out to me?
Do you call?

Everyone needs a friend
You can call on
In the night

And sometimes I think
I would have me a farm
With some chickens
And some old-world charm

And I think I do not live
A little more each day
I die a little more
Each night

And I think
I am alone

The stars do not return

I sleep

23rd September 2007