The Quiet Time

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 Heard a storm was coming so stepped out on the porch to watch. Seem to like doing that. Moved the wreath from the door to the bench on the side with a gentle touch only due to the next inside. Waved the pillows from the chair as if the inhabitants were going somewhere else and knowing they would still be there as I sat down. The light in the sky reflected off the roofs across the street but it seems the weather predicted was going south or east or north as usual. As a few drops of water started to fall the rocker moved faster. The thoughts of the day returned to be examined. Spider web of black silhouettes that last week were tipped with fuzz are now like real trees with blooms and leaves and decisions of which ones to keep and which ones to cut. Amazing how much you can hear from the houses around. A few cars ride up to the corner but turn to travel north or south as do the lights in the sky flickering on their way to distant airports. 

But this is the quiet time.

Thinking of the projects that wait with one checked off to answer questions of a distant friend looking for reference to award security clearance for whatever reason. Peanuts and seed were already spread to a familiar family so the daily obligation could be satisfied. Bought another razor but do not shave so what is that all about. The critters did their usual acrobatics but the perfumed filled shed did not wake the spirit. An “Appalachian” program on PBS, that was a repeat to my mind but held a lot of realization of what growing up here meant. The music that I hated as a youngster but it was the only alternative to the “Big Band” sound that my parents sang I’ve learned to understand and with both in the background appreciate the connections. 

But this is the quiet time.

The local or at least convenient provider for tires and spokes and accessories plus the replacement for stolen vehicles will be closing soon. Much like a family member or no, a core of the structure that keeps the level possibility of living going will be gone. While to some it may not seem like a change of life, but for one who lives in a limited area with limited resources, to have one gone may be a game changer. Few companies or associations are respected enough to conjure the thought of going to see them tomorrow and wish them the best, but that is what will happen. 

But this is the quiet time.

The rocker speeds up to the wind or maybe the thoughts. Walk back inside without disturbing the next and grab a sweatshirt for security and another beer for warmth, or visa-verse. So many nights has this rocker held the thoughts of the quiet time? Some nights it has been the sleeping place. Some nights it has been the discovery place. Some nights it has been a revealing yet disturbing place. Tonight is no different. Blame it on the lack of sleep? Blame it on the storm? Blame it on the diet? 

But this is the quiet time.