April 20th, 2014

caillebotte_man at his window

Then Again

Evening is here again, the faded air losing heat, light leaving the sky, a delicious coolness pervading the dusk. The rising and falling sound of frogs begins, and the steady rhythm of a nearby cricket. The last chattering of the woodpeckers fades away and night falls. Minutes slow and hours become vague as time dissolves and vanishes with the last light. The waning moon will rise later, or now— I've lost track.

The amphibian croaks and insect chirps lie against a backdrop of silence, as the emerging stars lie against the darkness. The empty roads are walled by still trees, and no one passes. No breezes stir the leaves, no dogs bark. Repose is here, and night is like a waking dream in which nothing transpires, but seems about to. Unseen moth wings flutter unheard, as soft as the air. It doesn't matter that I am going nowhere. I'm already there. I've always been there. I always will be.


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