Halloween, autumns pinnacle. Daylight grows shorter each passing day, nocturnal types revel in the night darkness as a shroud of inky black engulfs. A shroud broken only by city and vehicle lights, glimpses of shooting stars, the sky twinkling with stars and the profound wonderment of dancing colors of the Aurora. Ah yes, the aurora. In younger, far more crazy days I may have allowed myself to be carried away by hallucinogens while taking in the show. That was another incarnation all but erased by age and health stuff. Yep, the adage “had I known I would live this long I’d have taken better care of myself rings true””, just not so amusing as once.
The autumn eve wears on seducing eyelids to grow heavy and drift into a magic carpet ride of sleep. Suddenly I’m pulled from sleep as night is pierced by repeated wailing of a critter about to become chow to an unknown predator. There are perhaps a half dozen pained wailing protestations before the victim falls silent. The act is done, the aggressor victorious and satiated.
It is the cycle of life, the fabled law of the jungle. I snuggle into the covers absorbing warmth and comfort while my bed lulls me to oblivion once more. It’s a normal night with two to five hours in bed before aches and pains from past insults to the body roust me and takes me to the living room recliner in hopes of a couple more hours. Sometimes it happens and other times are like tonight with thoughts running rampant. A big thumbs down to more sleep.
An air horn announces an approaching train in concert with the shuddering cacophony of steel rails guiding steel wheels.
A fire truck, ambulance and police squad all take their turns filling the night sounds with screaming sirens.
A verse of an “Eagles” tune begins echoing in my thoughts:
“Lying here in the darkness
I hear the sirens wail
Somebody going to emergency
Somebody’s going to jail
If you find somebody to love in this world
You better hang on tooth and nail
The wolf is always at the door”
Excerpted from “New York Minute,” written by Don Henley and recorded by “Eagles.”
Thoughts beckon back to those last pained wails of that poor critter and I shudder anticipating the wolf at my door.