Ode to the Night Watchman

In the cold of the night, the watchman sits and watches the land. He is cold, he is tired, but he perseveres.

Nothing is awake in the brisk night besides the watchman himself. The land is silent and then the birds begin to sing.

The night watchman is awake and the cold wind is biting. He is the silent brother, the one all pass by, yet he is strong and stoic, biding his time til the day dawns.

To the watchmen far and wide, the night is yours, stay strong and stay warm.

Toronto City Hall, Nuit Blanche, October 2010.

love and health to all...