Monday, May 26, 2008

The Sounds of Eve

It is nearly 9 p.m. A summery evening. Robins trading solitary, twirling chants. A cat yearning hungrily -- for what? Another cat. The voices of neighbor's children. Broken phrases. Competition medals hung near a bed clanging like wind chimes. A window fan, on the floor. The robins' songs diminish, slow, and then start up again, full-throated. The chair creaks. The tapping of keys. Tires distant on pavement. A slight rumbling in the stomach. A cleansing breath. The slam of a neighbor's falling screen.

Never, anywhere, in any form, will this moment be precisely echoed.

The ephemera of an evening turning into night. In May, a Monday.

It is now. It is here.

And as you read this, it is gone.


Patti said...


Wanderlust Scarlett said...

Every single second is fleeting, and every moment as precious as every one before it.

Thank you for sharing this one.

Scarlett & Viaggiatore