As darkness descends, this time
in-between, when stars are not yet lit,
the moon lingering far away, I sit
like stone, hear whippoorwills,
some in woods north of me, some
to the south, and for the moment,
look up into soft sky, feel how good
it is to be on this planet, on this piece
of earth, this place in Oklahoma,
and for this time, at least, I will not
allow thoughts of a greedy governor
or a corrupt congress – betrayers
of the commonwealth, of common
sense – an eviscerated education,
emaciated common good, enter me.

For these moments I will quietly sit,
practice the old art of wu wei, let
night birds fill me. I welcome night,
ducking too much light, a squinting
fool seeking guidance from stealthy
birds. Their song blending with geese
honking high overhead, a distant dog
barks, cattle lowing, tremoring tree
frogs, cicadas, crickets – bats diving
and darting and I am comforted.
For this time, at least, I am nothing
but an empty cup waiting to be full again.