Tuesday, January 7, 2025, 11* Dark
Moon lit the dark through slats in the blinds. Tried to take a picture got only dots, only lines. Three in the morning -- not time to go outside, set up a tripod; I would’ve been in the woods, the angle not right. Focused on breathing, ‘kept thinking I’d fall asleep soon. At six Ruger sat by my door in motion-activated light.
From room to room looking through windows looking for morning scenes, coffee dripping, washer washing, furnace doing its thing. On windowsills candles glow ‘til I turn on a light. Later, as I write, sun tickles the blinds but doesn’t come inside. How much sunshine comes into a life?
Photo: L J Austin
