Into the night

The other night I was waiting at the bus stop on campus regretting the fact that I had stayed so late since it's not fun to wait for the bus in the damp cold darkness. There was a sudden gust of wind and the leaves in the tree rustled so loudly that I looked up to see a burst of leaves in the wind backlit by the orange street lamp. Against the deep navy sky they looked like flakes of gold pirouetting through the air. It was so beautiful. And in that moment I couldn't remember why I didn't like the darkness and the night. We only fear the night because of the things that we humans have created and infused in it - violence, crime, heartbreak. Without those things the night is just another time of day, a time when the world feels smaller, cozier, and intimate.

The darkness brings the magic hour where illusions seem more real and time can't be trusted to tell the truth. I used to imagine the night as the softest embrace of the darkest velvet. In the darkness I can lie in the grass and listen to the tree frogs and crickets sing as the stars inch across the sky. In the darkness I can drive through the cornfields to watch the harvest moon creep along the horizon. In the darkness I can watch the snowflakes drift upwards in the air, glowing in the moonlight.

And since related things always seem to happen as if by chance at the same time, I came across this poem on the bus a day or so later. Another sentiment for the darkness and the night. In my heart of hearts I love the darkness and the night.