8:34 and it's dark out.
Really dark out. And just now, I openly acknowledge the fact that summer has closed.
And that has left me with an empty-nothingness feeling.
Today's storm, which traces are reflected by street lamps, hangs overhead. He doesn't leave. He doesn't intend to either. Into the dark and black he sits and waits. Brooding. Not even that - he's just there, with no feelings. It's a feeling-less night. The storm feels nothing, I feel nothing. I no longer hear the crickets. Maybe they feel nothing tonight as well.
Hmmmm - what makes you think the storm is a "he?" I must admit though if I were to assign this particular storm a gender I would probably say "he" as well. Sometimes though the storm is definitely a she.
ReplyDeleteBy the way - I am glad you kept Wheaties. I just noticed you got rid of the random capital letters. And why would that be?
ReplyDeleteNice to see these recent posts! I always enjoy your language and your sense of things -
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