Before I hide myself away for another night awake, I'll look up between letterbox gaps in the broken blind to see the moon shift six degrees southeasterly and think that in the next seven hours soft eleven light will leak through as an alarm-clock-call no one asked for.
Before I walk out the door for another day of yesterday, I'll look for the wind coming down the road to ask it if it's bringing me something new on its coattails. Ikebana dalliance? A chance blur with her? Or something old and the same as before?