The Evening Rises

Sitting outside at night in my tired worn skin, the moonlight shining through the branches of the backyard trees. There's a whistling in the air, like a miniature train rolling along the wooden fences. The scurrying of squirrels, raccoons and other evening shadow creatures is heard in the next yard over. I sip on an ale, tingling my tounge and warming my skin. There's a chilling breeze waltzing with the flowers of my garden, forgotten by the recent winter chills. My eyes are old but this night is young, youthful with energy, promise and potential. Within it I am again a child.