From the corner of my eye I see a flash of brown dash across the garden. Fox is on his nightly prowl, foraging for scraps of food. He will leave his scent behind and the dog will search for clues of his whereabouts, but he will be long gone, back to his family with his bounty.
Brittle naked trees sway against a sky striped with pink and blue. One has been torn apart by the storms, leaving an open wound, gaping and raw. I wonder if it will survive.
Fridge clicks, computer fan whirs noisily. Car alarm emits an ear piercing wail. Text message peeps, mobile phone sings a well known theme tune. Washing machine rumbles, microwave pings, and somewhere not too far away, a bird sings sweetly.
I look at the knots in the wooden floor. An owl with big brown eyes, staring. A little gremlin with huge pointy ears, listening. Along the grain of the wood lies a coiled serpent with a cartoon face ready to attack. A tall bird with a long sharp beak ready to peck. They have always been there and I have never noticed.
My dog looks at me with sad soulful eyes trying to convey through the power of thought what he wants. His eyes are pools of black surrounded with the darkest brown with white flecks of reflective pictures.
It is dusk. The sky is still, apart from a solitary bird flying home late to his nesting. There are no stars.The orange glow from the street lamps take their place in this urban environment.
It has rained all day. I find respite by researching holidays and imagining myself feeling the heat of the sun once more. By the sea the stars will sparkle in the night sky and street lamps will have no need to impose themselves.