By the Roadside

The night has lowered the volume of everything.

Standing at the foot of the steps, I look up at this building. The lights flow like a gentle yet restrained line along the eaves and balconies, the warm yellow glow appearing exceptionally clear in the darkness.

The wind brushes through the treetops, rustling the leaves as if they were whispering to each other. I raise my head to look at this building.

The trees stand between me and the building, their branches intertwining, cutting the light into irregular shapes that fall upon the walls, the shrubs, and into my eyes.