Waning Light

It’s that time of year, turn the clock back.� It gets dark earlier and the days are shorter and I don’t like it.� So I begin pondering the waxing of the light after the winter solstice.� When I was a boy I thought if I lived with Palm Trees it would never get dark.�

If a person ever gets to the mid-point of a life, I think I’m there.� It makes sense to me.� It is not a crisis, as in mid-life.� (That may not be true.)� It�is letting go.� It is�embracing a new direction.� I’m in between letting go and embracing.� It’s fascinating unless it’s not.� This mid-point dance will require learning some new moves, new steps.� Fuck it.

At least I still have my hair.���

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