I only ever hear the wind at night.
Have you noticed that, too?
During the day it just sounds like air.
But the dark transforms it into more of a hollow echo,
as if someone far away is trying to choke out the words.
And as soon as it sounds almost decipherable,
there's no strength left to continue.
So they try again.
Over and over, it tries to communicate.
It feels like it's coming from years away,
but it's speaking directly to my bedroom window.
It comes and stops outside like it isn't allowed to go more than its allotted span of space or time.
But it knocks.
And it has a face.
I'm sure if I were to life my blinds it would be there, looking up at me with its cold eyes.
It sounds tired.
And alone.
Not scared, though.
Just aware that it will fade with the light
and return again tomorrow to strain itself for absent ears.
But I am awake.
And I am listening.
I just can't tell what it wants yet.