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.