2 am onwards

Bird shriek at 2.44 am

I clock it
A cat walks past a loose metal pothole cover.
The sound is loud. Not cat-foot loud but coyote stealth on a clumsy day.

The birds sound alarm. The birds, they cry in violent grief ( protest like) for the flying foxes somebody wrote about. They are scared - now in the world, everybody hates bats.

The coyote she was afraid would "get me"
In the woods in Canada, on what they called first nation land, a kind witch called Sparrow warned me not to walk alone in the woods.

Now I hear her words in the shrill birds' calls
And from the silent bat ghosts, not hanging upside down, not eating figs.
Even the heavy footed cat with the predatory ego of a coyote seems to echo them.

"Its cos your little honey, I'm worried! The coyotes will get you" 

Every warning . Every alarm bell from a past recently visited all too often starts to sound

I look at the clock, it is 2.49
I clock it
I know this night will again be dedicated to the reptile brain.
To its corners, claws and fangs.

Suddenly a song
A neighbor is awake too.
"Jaise ret pe likhe vaade , tum bhula na ..."
A Bollywood song, wafts into my sleepy ears.
The stars twinkle.
The reptile yawns

On this night
Perhaps...just tonight of all pandemic nights
The heart will be given a chance

I dream