Before Dawn Dims the Wonder

The low angle of the summer moonbeams attenuates shadows. Trees cast twice their length of darkness to conceal pavement, lawn and rooftop, while gaps among them allow the light to fall in swaths and patches. All which is not lit gathers together, and all which catches light leaps forth, but is less distinct in detail than by day. It is like some submerged landscape finding its way to the surface, the limpid light glistening like water where it strikes leaves or grass blades. A strip of rough board fence has emerged, laced with strands of vine, dark flowers crowding its base. Ordinary by day, the fence is strange in this light, seeming more a natural growth than the work of hands. And so the corner of a house now revealed, which might be some face of rock broken square. Even the patch of driveway lying between two shadows might be a stretch of dark stream, barely moving, its depths concealing darting fish and swaying water weeds. All the scene is still, and the town wrapped in silence, and only the slow movement of the moon from branch to branch reveals that time has not stopped.

( Sunday Verse )

Passage

I woke up earlier than expected today, and have now grown a bit goofy from having had too little sleep. Then there were visitors, and much passing away of time ensued, and then I discovered that a cantaloupe had gotten moldy from sitting in one place too long, which I took personally, both as an affront and as a warning against indolence. Following this, I performed a much more thorough cleaning of my mouse (no, that is not a euphemism) and it now works far better. But, by that time, darkness had fallen, leaving me to wonder how the day had gone so swiftly, with so little accomplished. I made tea, and felt better. I shall now turn my attentions to my nightly observance of universal entropy, and my gradual sloughing off of consciousness as the stars wheel by and the ancient moon ticks off another second of my diminishing few hundred. The quickly cooling night air is a delight.

Bonus Sunday Verse by Pierre Reverdy. Posted in greatpoets. (Highly recommended- both the Reverdy and the community.)