What Else Are They Going To Do?

All night: the bed, couch, floor, and three seasons room. How often the body wins! Giving up the mandate for sleep at 3 a.m., I walked around the yard in the dark between rains. Everything was so gentle on my tender feet. The ground gives way and pushes up water with every step. Peepers purr and sing their sleigh-bell chorus. Taps and drops of leftover rain try out different sounds on things in the dark. I caught the moon for a moment as flossy clouds thin momentarily, only to coagulate back into the obese yet familiar monolith sky of the last few days. I thought about smoking a joint but decided on a cup of tea instead. The night is beautiful in so many ways and I am not scared of it anymore accordingly.

Pending trip. Closing circle. Everything real is forever.

After every deluge, the ground bees dig themselves out and start anew. I think they are amazing until I realize: what else are they going to do?

Dawn rolls in dark, gray and redolent of loneliness. Plants yellow from too much rain and my muscles grow softer without the work. Can I tell you something? My vow was there for a reason and the reason says: remain. So, without expectation of anything ever, it remains.