Median

Caught in the middle of day and night; forced to wait on a shadowy figure. I hear your voice yet your face is absent, all but confirming what I presume to know. Elusive and fleeting, my composure seeks a wintry climate to avoid overheating. Thank God for the patience to outlast these tiring intervals until again I hear your voice! I know you’re there and that you have heard me. This window is small but not impossibly so. I have made my move for the opening; now I must wait to see if I am going to clear the space or ram into the wall.

It all comes back to the wait; until then, I am caught in the middle.