sometimes in the middle of my nights when everyone else is sleeping the beautiful things happen. in those quiet hours they always have. nocturnal now, nocturnal forever, i pass as a day dweller because i don’t need much sleep. while everyone else breathes into their night i prowl through my house, my home, and find the simple things i miss during the hours when the sun shines and i’m too distracted to notice them. too busy. at night when i am alone listening to the little noises: snores, the creaking of our wooden house responding to the change in the weather, i find them, little treasures waiting to be found; 