Closing in on midnight. A different kind of dark a different kind of cold. Distant cities, distant highways and all there is for now is the silence of the meadows and the hills and the sound of the creek and the smell of winter on barren fields older than generations. Eyes strained trying to see some other houses out there but most windows are shut, most lanterns remain dark. Time moving on. Yawning, briefly browsing through a long dense weeks memories. Emptying the glass, as always. And retreating, dream by dream. (Have a soothing night wherever you are.)