nocturnal

a half-moon hangs outside my window like a voyeur

while a million sounds fill the silence of the night beyond the screen

somewhere in the house an old board settles with a crack

that only briefly steals my attention from the book in my hands

the cat sleeps soundly at my feet as only a cat can sleep

as the dog snores softly upon her bed in the corner

no doubt dreaming of changing places with the cat

there are tires traveling along a blacktopped road

the car could be down the way or miles from here

sound carries like that when there is nothing to stop it

one bug serenades from the branch of a tree ten feet from the house

repeating the same note at the same frequency for what must be hours

I realise that I have read the same paragraph four times now

making it obvious that there are too many distractions

even when I am the only one awake here tonight

the book is closed and finds its place on the nightstand

the cat stirs indignantly as I reach to turn out the light

before curling onto my right side with my arm beneath the pillow

eyes adjusting to the half-light of the persistent moon

until sleep takes me with the song of one redundant bug

that sings long after I have stopped listening