Midnight Calm
By Timothy P. Bishop As I tread softly, Turning the latch, An icy shaft blows in. Outside, a crunch underfoot, Peering into the silent blizzard Effortlessly cascading Beneath amber streetlamps, A story scene of make-believe. I pull my coat tighter, Blinking into the snowflake tips That prick my face, And edge down the street. A static coat of arms, Frosted windows, Tudor beams, Parked cars entombed in snow – Calm rings out, Black clouds shift above. If I listen hard enough I can hear the calm elsewhere – The fluorescent entrance lights of the hospital Behind me Hiding the sleepy wards of old and young, Lost in their dreams of tomorrow, Silently walking with me Feeling the life in their fingertips. The nourishment of movement! In the eerie quiet of this moment others Lie ready To ease out of life. The brush of pillow on cheek, A final sensation, Diminishing ebb – Minutes become seconds become darkness. I feel for my keys, Their serrated edges Free me back to the confines of My familiar....
