Rainy Night

Sipping my tea, I slowly became aware of the rain pounding on the roof, the smell of the wet leaves and the crushed pine and hemlock. Moving to the skylight I pushed it open, hearing more clearly the sounds of the rain and the other night sounds. From the woods to the south-east of the house comes a sound --- almost a grunt --- the call is repeated hu hu hu --- the tone is even, not much of a rise or fall in pitch. Now the call again hu-hu-hu-hu-hu-hu-hu-hu-hu a rapid series of sounds. It is answered from the other side of the clearing. There is something sad in the sound. It touches cords of longing in my soul. Raising again a quiet yearning.

I stand savoring the night taking in deep breaths of pure air from the passing wild winds. The trees and the river pulsate with sounds pouring out their music into the deep stillness.


I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain--and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-by;
And further still at an unearthly height
One luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.
--- Robert Frost