This morning seems to have happened a century ago. It’s dark now. Cicadas are striking up their nightly symphonies in the darkened halls of night. I am thinking back to this morning, to the world coming into sharp focus in full color made that much more vivid by the light of the sun. All that brilliance and promise turned into memories now.
This morning, so expansive, seems so far away in the limited horizons of night. I am feeling the distance between the start of day and the night. I am feeling my age tonight. A few days ago, I felt like a kid, as I was lapping up the road on my bike, mile after mile through the wine country. Tonight it’s a different story. One narrated by my wearied bones, instead of my effervescent dreams.