Buck Wild Crazy, Flash Flood Muddy
I wonder where nostalgia sleeps
while the days go steady by
when life is too quick for memory.
And where does sentiment hide
when everything is granted
and there is nothing to hope for.
While I watch a bird outside my office window
drinking from a puddle and chirping
it feels somewhat pleasant and meaningful.
And it gets you to thinking,
"What am I here for?" "Why does any of this matter?"
and no pithy cliche, no response at all comes.
I sit and, in silence, experience
how pleasant it is
to hear no response, oddly.
No certainty, no assurance of anything
no pithy cliches, no arrogance or dogmatism
no orthodoxy or expectation.
Just the silence of not knowing anything
except that the computer makes a soothing sound as it runs
and that the rain is dying down to a sprinkle.
It must be, at least now for me, this sort of peace
that really matters
that really makes me think and, somehow, hope to believe.
But don't ask why I only experience transcendence nowadays
when Robert speaks to me on his cell as he walks around ETBU
or Josh tells me that he is ready to see my face again
or Jason puts so much effort into making our Christmas schedules work together
or Karla relaxes against me on the couch
or Justin implies that he'd like to be my neighbor someday
or Dr. New tells me that I'm really an exceptional person
or Craig mentions me in his blog
or so many of my close friends fly to Seattle to be at my wedding
or I get excited go to East Texas for Thanksgiving...
things like that.
But I do...
As the rain picks up, wildly now
So that the parking lot through my window is flooding
And Ranch Road 12, my way home, has now closed down.
Cypress Creek is overflowing, and a flash flood warning is in effect
And I just sit here in my office at a computer
Not working on anything but this, and thankful for that, because I'm tired.
