Waiting . . .

. . . for a miracle.

Sub-zero night,
dog curled up at the foot of the bed, near the baseboard radiator.
I lay here awake, with the sounds of late night all around me --

the slow, rhythmic breathing of my partner;
my son talking in his sleep, bumping a knee into his wall;
the dog woofing mutedly,high-pitched, probably dreaming of chasing red squirells off the deck;
the banging & ticking of heat pipes as they expand and contract;
the loud popping of the deck, like gunshots & ice on a pond, as the frigid air swells the ice and shrinks the wood;
Nana's clock softly striking once for half past one;
the quiet fan-like whir of the boiler;
the tapping of my stylus & the gurgle of my digestive tract.

All this and so much more,
the miracle of sound.

Good night.