Daytime voices, footsteps, trolleys, all hush. His raised baton invites those perennial sounds; beeps, clicks, the soft breath of machines – to become music. A hospital lullaby. Soothed, we sleep. A different sleep from day.
If noises intrude, shamelessly, unwanted, unwelcome, the music stops. Arms and baton come down to hang loosely at his sides until the sounds of running feet and shouted orders abate. One of us leaves. Calm is restored.
Tails flick, baton lifts to resume the serenade to our damaged senses until daybreak.