Late Night Sound



Late the other night, beneath an almost full moon, I sat upon the front stoop of my home listening to the neighborhood breathe.

Tucson, like any city, has a sound all its own at that hour.

Sometimes it vibrates in a perfect G major. Other times it is simply flat.

Last night the trains wailed near the highway where distant trucks passed, shifting gears along a forever highway. In the weeds a black cat poked about, prowling the places where shadows darkly criss-crossed the landscape.

And somewhere in this night, there was a rushing sound, unlike anything I heard before on our block. Like a gigantic tea kettle about to blow.

Walking down the empty street where moonlight and lamplight blend, the rushing sound transformed in tone and shape as it bounced off walls and around corners.

And then as suddenly as it was it wasn't, leaving the night to pour into the void like water into an empty ice tray, only to become frozen and still once more.



night 11/08/11