A Bedtime Story

The lamp beside my pillow drives the shadows back against the midnight rain's dark persistent tap. While condensation rises on the window glass, I sip hot gensing tea, from a ceramic demi-tass. A little bamboo thicket is dancing in the rain, just outside my window, where I dug its roots in vain, on long hot summer days, with my pickaxe and my pain. This cold winter night, it is growing back again. The book that I was reading, lies open on the floor. This house pops and creaks at night, in the dark beyond my door... Alone, I pull the covers close and tight, and shiver, as I reach up to douse the light.