Rain again, the kind where houses sit like lit jack-o-lanterns even though it is mid-day. Yesterday it was bright and sunny. I tried to sleep some but the light was too strong and I stayed awake. I didn't go out in it, though I thought I should be somewhere under thick limbs. I won't go out today either most likely, and it makes me feel like the weather really is inconsequential to living. What of the sunshine? No matter, I am caged and would rather sleep or stare at this screen or contemplate reading any one of the books piling up. I will lie here waiting for the inspiration, warding off the dread with the fantastical. I will absolutely not complete a thing.

But I hate that the daylight starts to fade at 3:30.

In the darkness I went east for dinner and then back again. Little winks of light whiz by one after the other, mesmerizing, distracting, dangerous more than helpful. Eventually there were no more bridges to cross, only the water black and placid. I find myself often at the shore peering out at another side. I think I should want to be over there, but that's not it - I already know what's out there. What is appealing is the movement of clouds, moon's kisses on the shoulders of shallow waves. Others were there in the darkness too, shifting figures among the shadows. Is it dangerous to be here like this? Just a hairline of lights on the tops of distant bluffs. Beyond that the mountains I know. Remember hiking this summer? Sleeping soundly on the warm sand, I've rarely felt so content. I do want that again.