In the middle of the night.

I’ve risen. In the middle of the night. Don’t know what possessed me. To use the word risen. Sounds so archaic. Religious, too. And notice in the dark. The deck. Outside the sliding glass doors. It’s wet. Must be raining. Indeed it is. I open the door. To a deliciously cool and gentle westerly breeze. A dampness coming off the lake. I like. Everything that I’m feeling. Alone. In solitude.  At another time, I might put on music. But give me quiet. An opportunity to capture the moment. To savor life. In thought. In darkness. In silence. –Jim Broede