Creature of the night

As the night drops its blanket of darkness over a slumbering world, I softly slink away into the stillness of a silent street. I hear every sound – the rustle of fallen leaves as a breeze bustles between them, the rattle of a discarded can as it cartwheels down the gutter.

Objects which hours before sang with colour have now taken on a more subdued pallor. A paleness in the shimmering moonlight, which bathes everything in a sea of silver grey.

I cowl and spin my head toward a screeching owl. I am not alone on my nightly journey. I turn again as a fox skips across the road on its way from one overfilled dustbin to another. A busy bat swoops, then glides then dances above me. Fluttering moths frantically bounce to and fro as they attempt to break inside a street lamp, and a spider weaves its web then waits stealthily for the flying fruits of the dawn.

For these are the creatures of the night. My night. My world. My ecstasy.