It is almost the bewitching hour.

The house is silent except for the throb of two clocks ticking in rhythmic, discordant, off-beat, countering patterns.

Midnight will come as the sandman visits those who are slipping into the land of nod, lost in slumbering bliss where Wynken and Blyken reside.

Ever so gently the moon rises into the ethereal starlight to grace the night sky with its eerie face-likeness; its gaze is cold, wise, and ghostly.

Respite from worries and cares is a gift this quiet evening gives to wee earthlings as they snuggle in folds of soft, down-filled delight.

The room grows chilly as the night air steals the warmth of the day from out the room’s center . . . its coolness fills every corner and area.

The insomniac dreads this late night hour with a passion; but what can one do? It is a process they learn, how to gently relax the body and mind.

Good night, my friends, sleep well; full of joy and peace, love and happiness, grace and goodness. Be happy.

Sweet dreams.