2.40 am

Walking back from the garage
Fag run
All is quiet
Frost on the sreet
Meet no-one
Arthritic trees show against an orange sky
And I listen to the houses singing in the night
rumble and stir
pipes working
pumps pushing
Central heaing, air conditioning,
dish washers and disposal units do their work
As humans shirk in bed
The pavement twinkles
and keys are clenched in my pocket
A deadly love locket poised
but there is no noise
A stark light falls
Casting shadows on walls and hedges
and edges of property
The mini cab office is awake
only just
There is nothing amiss?
Just a sense of well being in all of this