Drawn
To the night sounds
Unbeknown to me, I have experienced a sensory shift. I am now drawn to ‘the night sounds.’
As I walk from my unit beckoned by the nameless, I expect silence; long after the all-too-brief, ferocious tempest of the earlier electrical storm.
Yet the downpipes ‘gurgle’ as the remaining run-off shift and weave in an unpredictable pattern.
The remnants of rain drip with a strident ‘click’ and a resonating ‘splatt’ on the concrete below.
I arrive at my destination and gaze upward. The unexpected is revealed to me—a full moon with a rich yellow glow.
To gain the quietude essential to revel in the delight of this mesmerising sight, I walk beside the units and sit on the sandstone block wall across the road.
I rest adjacent to the now inactive tracks leading to the Carseldine Station.
The night sounds censor the anticipated hush, and I close my eyes.
Insects sing with quick-fire high-pitched ‘twicks’ and mid-range ‘schnicks.’
The rainwater has gathered near the tracks and formed community pools.
Amphibians call with staccato ‘glips,’ ‘gups’ and ‘gops.’
The responses are throaty with an enduring ‘gleeeeeze.’
My reverent moment comes to an end as the freight train rumbles by.
Pauline Fountain. © 2023. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be used or reproduced without the written permission of the author.
About the Creator
Pauline Fountain
Writing and photography provide a creative outlet to reflect with meaning on my life.
My mental health? Bipolar 1 (Rapid Cycling), Complex PTSD and Functional Neurological Disorder.
My son’s gentle wisdom furnishes me with the gift of hope.
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Universal Order
Stay in my arms, keep me warm, take me away to an island of cottage houses that live in heaven. If I could reside in a rose, sleep on a candle, eat grapes from the moon and have a bubble bath as my bed then joy would wake my soul every morning from the mountain. Gazing into the ethera from flesh to alternate realities; my soulmate is seen picking flowers, singing with the greenery, flipping pages lost in a book, barefoot soaking in a riverbed. While my wild hearted kids spur in a child’s world dispersed in the wilderness of Mother Earth’s fortress. An immeasurable treasure filled of pain and pleasure such is the adventure of life. An experience that unfolds you to your core, shedding layers to your purpose and the one course to take is… suffering. A blessing or curse? Advantage or disadvantage? Suppose you could say it differs between individuals. For he who has been wounded and healed learns to stitch others. And it’s when death ground swallows you that you’re made to dig into the trenches of your neglected parts. It is then when meaning is uncovered and you fall into the universe but realise it was just the doorstep of your soul. Preordained by the structurelessness of time’s myth every piece will fill when it’s destined in the open passage universal order. The heart’s deepest desires will blossom when the season is right.
By Haytham Trueheart7 days ago in Poets
Comments (3)
The world is washed clean after the rains come. It is the best time to experience the clean feel of nature and breathe in the fresh air. Lovely words to live by.
You have been gone a while. I hope everything had been alright! It’s good to see you back and this piece is very evocative and atmospheric. I love the use of sensory language and onomatopoeia for the sounds! Excellent job Pauline!☺️👍
This was so beautifully written! So glad to see you've published a poem after so long. Hope you're doing well! 💖