My neighbors, I imagine, know me as that guy

who stands in the middle of the street

for no apparent reason. Is he okay? 

they probably wonder. Perhaps someone should call 911

Okay. It’s a little embarrassing, but I’ll take the hit

Trees block our windows; I need to leave these walls 

to look at clouds, the moon, a starry night 

Things that I can’t see from inside my house. 

I stand in the middle of the cracked asphalt

and feel the wind in my thinning hair, the Earth at my feet 

and realize this: I’m returning to my animal nature. 

I feed the simple creature that lives in my bones 

and my blood. I no longer chase of gazelles in the veldt

or knock horns defending women and territory

No more of that, I have all that I need. I am at peace. 

I’m playing the long game. I awake from unremarkable dreams

well into the morning, drink coffee as our cats

follow rectangles of warm sunlight across the floor. 

Shadows lean from morning to afternoon to evening

The moon mimics the sun’s path across the sky 

the stars skipping in the moon's watery wake. 

These are the long, slow rhythms of my days

told in arcs and orbits. Hours and minutes have lost

their hold on me. I set my time to a slower clock now.

The turning wheel of the sky, and the path of the Earth.

I stand in the street, oblivious to the stares of my neighbors

As I watch a looming thunderhead, a stray sundog

a shower of meteors, a conjunction of planets.

And when night falls and I roll into bed

to curl next to my my True Love, breathing easily

together in the peace of night as we tumble into sleep

the deep animal comfort of her heart beating next to mine

follows me across my dreams and into the coming day

like cats following warm rectangles of sunlight 

across the living room floor.