Apr 2018
The kitchen table is at the right position
Where my family and I can leisurely face our eyes
In the direction of the clear-glass screen door that displays
Views of our backyard.
On the evening of March 16, I sat on the dark brown, black wooden chair at my usual curve of the table.
There are times where I sit and, though I cogitate “Get up! Get up!”, there are times where I just cannot collect the energy to rise from a still, muscle-relaxing pose.
The setting, yellow-white tint of the sun lured my soul to head outside, the natural character in me felt a need for.
Without delay, I zipped on my AHA sweater and capped my head with a retro blue-and-red Super Mario winter hat.
Opening the side door of the garage, the setting sun continued to lure my presence to still myself before its gentle mantle.
[At least there is no admission for seeing nature run its course!]
This evening scene of twilight I had to view seated on a purple cushion 90-degreed,
Unfolded on the outdoor swing.
I try not to let the urban sights of a barn shed, a house gated, dogs’ barks to my right
Derail my focus of natural concentration.
I learned in meditation once to just let noises and sights come as they please,
For they will have their exit.
I may not be a master at letting things go, but I kept meditative concentration
As the practice for the evening.
Every couple beats I would turn my eyes away from the westward sunset
To see if I noticed a lower sun and a higher indigo darkness.
Maybe I am not bound to the ascetic life, but I would not let the crispy, invisible chills
Of the evening winds chase me inside so easily, though the cold rush along the thighs of
My Lee jeans was a caveat that soon, Kearneysville would submerge into hours of a dark, polar void.
I tried to lose sense of the clock, so time would not be my focus in nature, which doesn’t go by Greenwich anyway.
The right amount of cold air lingered that night: enough to be outside for a while and enough to keep the pestiferous gnats away from my eyes.
No clouds passed my line of vision aimed at the ionosphere, and all the hues of the sun’s petering rays shone a “goodnight.” This evening sun vanished in the optimistic vigilance that natural green scenes and Emerald green scenes were only one horizon away.
Where my family and I can leisurely face our eyes
In the direction of the clear-glass screen door that displays
Views of our backyard.
On the evening of March 16, I sat on the dark brown, black wooden chair at my usual curve of the table.
There are times where I sit and, though I cogitate “Get up! Get up!”, there are times where I just cannot collect the energy to rise from a still, muscle-relaxing pose.
The setting, yellow-white tint of the sun lured my soul to head outside, the natural character in me felt a need for.
Without delay, I zipped on my AHA sweater and capped my head with a retro blue-and-red Super Mario winter hat.
Opening the side door of the garage, the setting sun continued to lure my presence to still myself before its gentle mantle.
[At least there is no admission for seeing nature run its course!]
This evening scene of twilight I had to view seated on a purple cushion 90-degreed,
Unfolded on the outdoor swing.
I try not to let the urban sights of a barn shed, a house gated, dogs’ barks to my right
Derail my focus of natural concentration.
I learned in meditation once to just let noises and sights come as they please,
For they will have their exit.
I may not be a master at letting things go, but I kept meditative concentration
As the practice for the evening.
Every couple beats I would turn my eyes away from the westward sunset
To see if I noticed a lower sun and a higher indigo darkness.
Maybe I am not bound to the ascetic life, but I would not let the crispy, invisible chills
Of the evening winds chase me inside so easily, though the cold rush along the thighs of
My Lee jeans was a caveat that soon, Kearneysville would submerge into hours of a dark, polar void.
I tried to lose sense of the clock, so time would not be my focus in nature, which doesn’t go by Greenwich anyway.
The right amount of cold air lingered that night: enough to be outside for a while and enough to keep the pestiferous gnats away from my eyes.
No clouds passed my line of vision aimed at the ionosphere, and all the hues of the sun’s petering rays shone a “goodnight.” This evening sun vanished in the optimistic vigilance that natural green scenes and Emerald green scenes were only one horizon away.
This is a description of my evening before St. Patrick's Day this year.
