Written at Easter 2004 in a quiet, sheltered village-in-a-valley watching people retreat from the night and silence outside to electric lightbulbs and TVs inside......... br br Tonight, Twilight tarried barely long enough br To steal the last, lingering sounds from a weary world br And cloak itself with the distance now denied br To even the most deeply dilated pupils, br Before taking its leave of the be-nighted, br Consigning us to the capricious will of the West Wind, br That chill harbinger of dead of night. br br Between the one departure and the other impending arrival br Our valley wore a vacuum as a shroud: br Invisible, yet tangible, visceral, br Its presence hanging heavy upon the air; br Silent, still its soundlessness resounded, br Imposing itself long and loud upon empty eardrums. br br Strange how unworldly becomes the world br Stripped bare of the machines and machinations of men, br Stripped back to the basics of being - br To naked Nature’s bone.