Far past the time
For finding bed
I take my way
Into the darkness,
Looking at the night.
Although I make excuse
Of checking weather,
Moving sprinklers,
Putting out the trash,
I’m not there for chores;
I think it’s more to tend
What some might call my soul.
I stand still, let my eyes
Adjust to lack of light,
And simply stare . . .
At moon, stars,
Clouds, trees, sky.
I listen to the birds,
The breeze, to autos
On the street nearby.
I think about my life,
The world, the universe
Around me, easier to see
In soothing dimness
Than in the blinding day,
Somehow much more real;
And those moments
Standing in the night alone
Make all else right.
©2014 John I. Blair
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