I wake up while the stars are still faintly sprinkling the dark colored blanket that covers the sun and quiets the people.
There is so much silence that I can hear captivating harmonies that are usually obliterated in daytime's illumination and bustle.
Like how wind runs its fingers through Mother Earth's hair. Comfort. How the river flow around the rocks, kissing every inch of her bumpy spine. Devotion.
At night, as I observe, it always feels like I've walked into an intimate setting I was never meant to see. Interrupting, nature's gentle displays of affection.
I wasn't made nocturnal, but nightfall evokes passion in the quiet. And twilight is for those who listen.
Like many of us, sometimes writing keeps me from sleep.