Gathering Together Gathering Together

I wake up in the dark and it’s already raining. Lightning far off—then the old man is asleep—snoring. My wife breathes slowly. If she’s awake, she doesn’t want to be disturbed, as I seem to be. Do I worry whether the creek will flood? Can I accept election results? What did I say to my coworker that his incompetence didn’t justify? It could be me or it could be this upside-down world. The old man is snoring as I lie awake and it’s too late to clear the rain gutters clogged with rotting leaves, or bring in the patio furniture: already wet, and can’t get any wetter.

Gathering Together