It always happens at night, when the lights are low, and the moon has risen. Most often its arrival is quiet, and you hardly know its there. But when the lights go on in the backyard, and the dogs began whining, you know that you are not alone. The night visitors are here.

Sometimes its winter, and the snow is deep, and the winds are cold. It doesn't stop them. They wait at the stairs, hoping for the errant pizza crust.

Sometimes its summer, and the grass is long, and the hot winds blow. The rains come, pounding down in a deluge. Still they come, seeking shelter, and the savory mouse stored away in the cat larder for later snacking.

Sometimes it’s the light. Acting as a hypnotic, it draws them in, and they are captivated. Unknowingly, they stay the night, too dazed and confused to realize that the sun has come up. In the morning their sluggish bodies are found clinging to the door screen, waiting again for the night to fall.

And, once in a very great while, they get so comfortable that they decide that they no longer want to be visitors. Coming for food or shelter or light is not enough. They decide to move in under your stairs, and make your home their home. And you think to yourself, why not? Company, especially quiet company, is always welcome.

Can you guess the animals that inspired this ode?

In order of above paragraphs: Possum, Raccoon, Moth, Toad!
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Published on September 26, 2012 12:08 • 95 views • Tags: night-visitors-by-tara-fox-hall

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