The Privacy of Loneliness

This is a piece based on my favorite place in the world, my roof. It sounds weird but it's whatever.

The heavy, summer air greets

my tanned skin

With the affection of lovers reuniting from a summer

Spent abroad.

The fleece blanket laid across the roofing tiles

welcomes me to a night spent aligned with the tree tops.

Normally one would be deterred from the height

Or from the damp smell of nature’s musk

Buried into the grainy texture beneath me;

But the stars scattered across the clear night sky

Seem to call my name and

The wind coaxes me into submission.

The wind is a wanderer.

It grazes through my hair like a fine-toothed comb,

Rustles through the leaves of trees like rattles

And skims the water’s surface with the agility of a

Ballerina.

Mother Nature is the conductor of her creations’ orchestra

And the chirping crickets are her choir.

The moon illuminates the insanity that is my writing.

The words sprawled across my pages

Are merely shadows who

Dance in rhythm with the tip of my pen

And in this moment I am proud to call myself

A hermit of the night.