On account of darkness,
called:
The ball game on the unlit field;
the interminable argument.
The migration of hummingbirds;
the crescent moon, incrementally.
Dusk.
The hope for something better;
the search for survivors.
The ovulation of hens.
The play of long-ago children.
The open throats of morning glories;
the songs of wrens, of larks, of cardinals.
Of robins, finally.
The tenuous rule of law.
The slumber of gerbils and raccoons,
of woodcocks and hermit crabs.
Who we were;
our certainty.
Your name.
Meditatio Ephemera 
seems darker
than i remember,
myself 😦
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