Tonight God sleeps

Kneeling on the couch

1:30 am

Window open

It’s 36 degrees out there

I can’t tell any difference in the temperature out there

And the temperature in here.

It feels like a spring day to me

What is it then that has me mesmerized

I can’t look away

I just sit and stare

Very little is moving

My duck shakes its wings

Opie tilts his big-ole goat head

These movements are my doing

I’m obviously moving them with my mind

Because the master painter is sleeping

And my mind is struggling with that

It seldom happens

it’s even less common to notice it

tonight, everything past the fence is motionless

like somebody pushed pause

tonight, the only things that are animated

have been animated by my own interaction with them

the owl isn’t there

the coyotes aren’t there

the wind isn’t

I don’t mean it isn’t blowing

It’s just not there

the wind isn’t, it just isn’t, maybe it never was

The painting s motionless

Tonight God sleeps