Peace of being.

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Yes, a little more sleep did help.  Still inactive, and prone to be for some time most likely, at least there is a sense of ease in the moment.  The senses remind me of a poem I read most recently, written in the appropriate setting and framing the right time, as regards my notions.  While nighttime is not what is sought by me, when I find myself in it literally or virtually as now, I wish merely to enjoy it.  Regardless, as well, of my wishes, my nature belongs to the night.

Most recently I read poetry written by a lady who caught so much of my sense of things on such nights.  As I enjoy them, I dared ask sufferance in order to use her poem here.  Permission was granted.  It seems now is the time to cash that cheque.

The moon reappears
a lover so errant
A quick glimpse of light
its deceit not apparent
It kisses my skin
soft shimmering light
Bright promise, a whisper

uttered only at night
In a moment it's gone
cold taking its place
Autumn's caress
assuming its space
For I could not own it
it's light held no key
Captured by nothing
not even by me
- Brigid

While it may seem a sad, or lonely, piece, for my part it is not the case.  The humbleness of unrequited love, the loneliness that is a part of life, the richness that darker shades of life can bring, and other thoughts of similar natures, crowd into my mind upon reflections of this poem and the notions that drew me to it.  These are not bad, or painful, or sad things, in this humble cave.  Little tastes of life which many seem to have no patience for, but which I, and apparently others, suss out of life.  Little, often innocent, pleasures, enjoyed right over or around or through our sinfulness.  Yes.  Indeed, this poem and my thoughts, to me, are spices added to my life.

Thank you, much, madam, for your kind permission and fine work.