While everyone was in the hut I wandered out into the night. A full moon. The more you know about the universe, the smaller you feel. But the moon somehow seems closer now. Solid and steady. The fact that it’s barren is a comfort.

Moonlit

Heard a noise from the forest
and dropped into a crouch
Imagined an empathy zombie
Slevering kindness
somewhere in the dark
Felt fear like the point of a knife
every sense straining to its tiptoes
A trickle of conversation
bubbling from the hut
Moisture on the moss below me
the smell of the log burner
the smell of the fish that
had been cooked and cut
my pupils expanding
labouring against the night
and that was it
Nothing else happened
All I had done was crouch
get back to my feet
and come to the conclusion
that the cold company
of your own mortality
doesn’t half light you up