My neighbors, I imagine, know me as that guy
who stands in the middle of the street
for no apparent reason. Is he okay?
they probably wonder. Perhaps someone should call 911
Okay. It’s a little embarrassing, but I’ll take the hit
Trees block our windows; I need to leave these walls
to look at clouds, the moon, a starry night
Things that I can’t see from inside my house.
I stand in the middle of the cracked asphalt
and feel the wind in my thinning hair, the Earth at my feet
and realize this: I’m returning to my animal nature.
I feed the simple creature that lives in my bones
and my blood. I no longer chase of gazelles in the veldt
or knock horns defending women and territory
No more of that, I have all that I need. I am at peace.
I’m playing the long game. I awake from unremarkable dreams
well into the morning, drink coffee as our cats
follow rectangles of warm sunlight across the floor.
Shadows lean from morning to afternoon to evening
The moon mimics the sun’s path across the sky
the stars skipping in the moon's watery wake.
These are the long, slow rhythms of my days
told in arcs and orbits. Hours and minutes have lost
their hold on me. I set my time to a slower clock now.
The turning wheel of the sky, and the path of the Earth.
I stand in the street, oblivious to the stares of my neighbors
As I watch a looming thunderhead, a stray sundog
a shower of meteors, a conjunction of planets.
And when night falls and I roll into bed
to curl next to my my True Love, breathing easily
together in the peace of night as we tumble into sleep
the deep animal comfort of her heart beating next to mine
follows me across my dreams and into the coming day
like cats following warm rectangles of sunlight
across the living room floor.