A LATTICE OF LIGHT AND SHADE

I went for a night walk. I thought the cold air might clear my stuffy head.

I go on about the moon and the stars too much I know, but they really are so beautiful: the silver chandeliers that hang like frozen crystals, the waning pearl moon, so bright, so clear, among its amphitheatre of lit clouds. I love the night sky.

There was a stillness out there too. Last night, the wind bellowed through the trees, and the night before it had carried flecks of cold rain with it. But tonight, there was no wind - just silent, still, brittle trees lit by the street lamps. Each pollarded branch and bare twiglet touched the sky with inky fingers.

I passed a house. A lady was coughing from an upstairs window. Strange that the lights were out but the window was open on such a cold night, I thought. In others: warm sitting rooms, bright sofas and artwork, cases of books, lamps and Venetian blinds. Everyone’s house looked very homely all of a sudden. Very warm.

I don’t know if mine will ever feel like a home. I hope so.

There weren’t many cars around either - just a few sweeping their headlights around the bends. A pizza delivery car had stopped outside the Chinese Takeaway, which I found funny. Empty Number 17 buses rattled past, brightly lit and empty.

I passed the pub too. A warbling band were playing covers behind the single-glazed, steamy windows. The flashing lights made it look like a Christmas party. I did catch the eye of the bass player though as I passed. He was super cool. Cooler than me, anyway. But most people are.

I found the allotments and headed home, all the while lit by the silvery moon and the crystal stars. Long shadows fell out of the night, onto the cabbages and sheds and beanpoles. And me, criss-crossed by light and dark, a lattice-work of shade and brilliance, plus and minus, happy and sad. I picked my way over the frozen puddles and headed gently home.