Sunday, November 7, 2010
November 2, 2010
The sky is fading and the sounds of the landscape have shifted. Most of the birds have gone inside. They sit at their small tables, plates of worms before them. Something croaks, a frog or toad, I imagine. I've never known the difference. The clock ticks, loudly. Strong, secure. It will go on long after I've stopped. Tonight, I will eat a hard cooked egg, just as my father does, or as he did, the morning of my wedding. I will pinch salt onto a plate, grind pepper over the salt, and tap my egg into the mixture before each bite. I will eat an apple pulled from the tree just outside my window. The sheep will watch. And I will drink water from a wine glass because the night is special. Later, I will wake and stumble to see stars so strikingly bright I will be afraid to return to sleep. I won't want to let them go.