51/03: Still Here

Despite a fairly long afternoon nap Saturday, I still crashed early that night and found myself in bed not long after midnight. The next I knew, a wind was clattering the vertical blinds of my open bedroom window, waking me with its racket and the bursts of morning light admitted. I thought we might be in for a windy day, but not long after I got up it died down, and now a stillness hangs over this cool, late summer morning.

Vague images of other places other times wander through my mind, but none of Saturday are recognizable among them. As far as my brain is concerned, only the imaginary turned page of a calendar bears witness to its passage. Disembodied voices of passersby traveling the path beyond my back fence sound, and are as strange as my own would be, if I dared to attempt speech. But I don't want to hear my voice alone in this room. It might sound too sad.


( Sunday Verse )