Up Here in The Night

Way, way up here in the night

we learn secrets;

what goes on in the treetops

or on the forest floor

if no one is looking to see but the wildings.

Bats dance an aerial gavotte

and fears – both fresh and stale -

vanish in the dwindled light.

This mountain top we stride

is surrounded by higher ones yet,

and they play as only mountains can

tossing the lightning between them.

Try to grasp a bit of an earthly thing

if you can, hold onto smoke,

chin held up high to touch the smile of the moon

peeking between scattered leaves.

Question what you hear, not the gun’s bellow,

but the heavy footfall on last year’s leaves,

the war growl of the bobcat, too close at hand

or the warming roll of insistent thunder.

Yet another night of rain, moist love from above,

a review of life, as seen by kites in the air,

very few moments manifest as they touch ground,

what a fine way to be.