Eavesdrop
They rose like dinosaurs in the landscape. Long necks of hued metal reaching to the sky. Only their stillness speaking. He listened to them. He, the NightWatchman, the one who hears.
When Ray got the job, he celebrated. They went to Maya’s and the family ate their fill laughing, and later, singing together when the band arrived. Ah, that was a good time.
Ray looked at the monsters lined up ready for work in the morning.
Strength.
That’s what he heard as he listened to them. Moving iron beams into place with ease. Even grace. Ray admired that. Grace.
There were a few small clicks bantering back and forth, here and there.
Ray knew this conversation.
The day was brutal with heat. As sun set and moon rose, the cool of night made its way into cracks and crevasses between plates and screws. And the instruments relaxed from their craft. A release of all they had accomplished.
Ray knew this conversation.
Cranes confessed in relief. Some more bold, almost bragging. Others, simply a sigh.
Ray understood.
He welcomes dark
As he moves through his sacred space
Knowing each turn by heart
Flashlight pocketed, ready if neededThe NightWatchman listens
For conversations
Eavesdropping on the day
That no longer speaks with voices
But is captured in silence
Making room for a deeper hearing
For those things forgotten, ignored,
un-acknowledgedThe NightWatchman honors the
Unremarkable
Each creak and crack and skitter
knowing the story they tell
Ray reached for his keys, a ring of wonder.
“Hey, Ray, how do you know the right one?”
He smiles and moves on.
The NightWatchman knows.
. . . . .
Author’s Note:
Each group of writers brings a wondrous array of gifts. Unique voices. Wisdom. Compassion. Vulnerability. If it is a strong group, always vulnerability.
We wrote from a simple word prompt: eavesdropping.
On my drive to the session I saw a row of cranes near a water plant all lined up in a multitude of colors. Just the necks, like brontosauruses all in a row waiting for a treat. And “night watchmen” from the radio jumped out and tickled my ear. I don’t hear that word much anymore.
And what was birthed came from those three inspirations today and a lot of support and love from the group.
Blessed be.
To Create... 