A few casts from the dock. A blue spinner. Into water going dark. Temperature drops. Thunder grumbles at the red-and-white pontoon trolling the middle of the lake and at the guy with the farmer tan buzzing past on a wave runner. Still hot, but bearable. The wind disappears. Water goes silent. Even the birds have stopped. And the flies bite.
Let Nature do her thing. She knows best—always ahead. No matter what we think we know from satellite systems, high-resolution modeling, and artificial intelligence. She wins. Always will. The most motivating muse is like that—unpredictable.
Tired tonight. The real stuff that comes from work and thought and trying not to think about how making words is growing more important each day. It comes at night. When the fat gray cat—Little Rhino—meows then leaps from floor to headboard. And her tail brushes my forehead—back and forth—a soft, comforting pendulum, ticking off our time. When the dog barks in his sleep and I hear it in my dreams. As the kids take turns sneaking down our creaky stairs for their midnight snacks. In my wife’s deep sighs when she changes position and explores the world she lives without me. A break finally from all we ask of her.
There’s a lot more left here. Can’t you see it? Do you feel it?
The threats have passed. Waves are back. Cedar boughs sway. Robins are calling to one another. And I’m satisfied. There’s no sense picking it apart now. An evening like this is unremarkable. Not worth noting. And that, I think, will help me stay asleep tonight.
~ KJ
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