the edge of the night

near midnight -
time of great quiet.

scarce rain as I sit on the edge of the uppermost step
of the front porch,
droplets barely grazing my lower leg, my forearm if I lean.

I look ahead -
the silence enduring,
casually meditative.

sirens in the distance, the occasional dog walker, jogger,
life passing by.

I wonder if I’ve chosen solitude or been chosen
as I look up at the street lamp monastically,
a flare in my eyeglasses
as I take in the edge of the night.

(the rain has intensified by the time I post this)