Frogs rhythm in the ponds. I sit still, trying to stop thinking and the silence begins, at least a little, to settle in. When I first arrive I have forgotten slowly you teach me removing layer by layer the self-consciousness of an ordinary life. Flatness gives way to depth my eyes are first to unlatch the silence grows over languorous as a lover. At last I separate pulled apart from words feeling joy and pain realizing once again how far from you I've grown.
Wind blows harder and a patch of evening sky opens up above with the patterns of pale stars.
It's getting cold. I hoof it back just as the tourists in the trailer start up and swing their headlights out to see and motor slowly down the long drive. I eat quickly then burrow into my room for a good book and a better night's sleep. So I lie, thinking, waiting for sleep in the gradually slowing cascade of images. Now it is dark and quiet in the halls a cricket chirps in the tiled stalls forgetting the others in the mission asleep their breathing steady as the heartbeat.