Wondering, … again

Wondering, … again[1]

I gaze out my eastern window, in the hall near the cream toned sofa.

The moon is setting, a season behind its brighter grandsire as it generally does.  The night is soft and warm, still tingling from the breathtaking prism of sunset.  The blue is not yet indigo, rather more a deep royal, and the first hint of a star’s twinkling teases the eye.

It’s not a cloudless night, hints and echoes of clouds drift by and play among the soft night winds but the cerulean sky seems somehow clear.

I too drift, … to the large window facing south that frames my bedroom.

The vivid panoply of greens that live by day among my local mountains already seems fast asleep and the amber lines of cabs that cruise the city’s central street beneath my window are slowly thinning.  Soon this city will be fast asleep.

I move again.

I look through my broad living room windows to the North where my memories shift restlessly wondering what my three sons are feeling, what they’re thinking, what they’re doing and who they’re doing it with.  What the sky is like in the undulating plains of central Florida.  Whether the sun there has already set and whether by happenstance they just finished gazing at the moon: Billy’s banana moon.

I lose myself in melancholy, sigh, and turn away.

Wondering, … again.


[1] © Guillermo Calvo Mahe, Manizales 2010; all rights reserved

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