I used to long for many things. Later, I did most of them. Now they are memories. No need for longing.
These past few years have been difficult. For once, not because of illness of dire poverty, but because the world tipped over and I’ve been clinging to the edges.
In the yearning department, I’ll settle for simple things. Warm weather. Bright skies. This morning, very early — just before five — the sun was rising as the moon was finishing her travels across the night sky.
The moon longed for me. She told me so.
At least, I believe that is what she said. Sometimes, when the moon speaks, her language is strange and not entirely clear.