Waking while the world

still sleeps.

Climbing silently from our beds.

Pull on coats and quiet shoes,

or tip-toe out with them in hand.


Slip the lock and trip the latch.

Out the door, or out the window.

While others dream

in their heads,

we are about to go

out into the night.


Heeding a silent call.

is it the moon,

or the stars?

Maybe just mystery itself.


Out in the wild

and free time,

we write our own songs,

sing our new lives.

Unburdened by the day’s

heavy expectations

and eyes of those

who fancy themselves our betters.


We’ll sing new songs

to the sky.

Serenade the calm waters.

Forge a friendship

with all of the heavens;

on these summer nights,

we own the world.


No hint of danger.

No fear of the wolf.

The night might be our

exclusive province,

but we are blissfully unaware.


As we grow

we will forget

the magic of the night,

when it opened itself

and we glimpsed

something more.


We saw ourselves

as we were

and our infinite potential,

stretched out there,

amongst the stars.



before the sun decides to rise,

make our way back home.

Climb up to that window,

close the door, so silently.

Set the lock and close the latch.


Tip-toe back into our rooms,

and get undressed,

and go to bed,

and do our best to act like

we did not just see

the whole world

for the first time

in our short lives.



HG – 2022

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