The nightjar is vociferous tonight, hauntingly so.
Autumn is here, undoubtedly, but not tonight.
My heart is at peace, and content.
Today was also a productive, well balanced one.
Memories linger fresh.
Many years pack themselves close up together, like books on a shelf, the memories are as varied and colorful as a hundred dust covers.
I've seen many butts left in ashtrays, despite not smoking. Each one is a memory too, often intimate ones - before and after - or during: the smoke air blown through intimate conversations held on a couch overlooking the edge of the world, my world.
Peace. Calm. Love