night comes on

On my way home,  idly strolling through night time streets, I noticed a thousand small and seemingly ordinary things.

Raindrops dripping down from corroded gutters, remnants of last evenings rain. Following a secret rhythm I cannot discern.

Traces of the rain on the pavement. Wet patches shimmering in the light of broken and droning street lamps. Like mirrors, promising fairytale worlds hidden beneath the sleek surface.

A plastic bag caught in a tree, fluttering in the warm breeze that brushes my face - my whole body. No more frozen fingers.

Stars hiding behind feathery clouds.

Old dead leaves on sickly hedges, rustling in the wind. Whispering tales of winter days, mischievously reminding me of depressing hours spent in anger, fear and pain.

Right next to it, trees about to bloom. More raindrops, tentatively holding on to the black branches.

Birds chirping along the way. 

Cyclists approaching and passing me. The sound of wheels on crunching grit that has not yet been swept away.

The distant noise of traffic. A car speeding around the corner, struggling to keep on track. Later, an ambulance in the distance, and another.

Torn and tortured soil, ripped open wide by heavy machinery rolling over it - deeply scarred. Soon to be patched up with smothering tarmac.

Empty buildings calling me. Broken windows posing as dead eyes peering right into the innermost part of me. Shadows lurking everywhere - or is it the light that is hiding in the dark?

A church bell striking the hour.

Spring is here, finally. Despite the rain and the grey sky. The world takes a deep breath and is about to exhale all the things thought lost and forgotten.

  

Why am I writing in English today? Perhaps because I have spoken, thought, read, counted, laughed, yelled and dreamt in English more than 90% of the past day...days...weeks. 

And apart from that, it simply sounds a hell lot better if you are talking to yourself in English!