Unafraid

I like to be outside at night with the flowers. What do they do, not under the sun? Some close at night, making their interiors a privacy. Some remain as cups or dishes, as though a bee might still arrive, or a moon. Does the moon matter to a tulip?

One night they begin to fall apart. How does it feel to be loosened of petals?

Horizons

Last night a long drive on unfamiliar roads, the destination unrolling little by little under headlights. Comfort in being nowhere but there, and there again.

This morning, a fog; only the near is visible. Again I am placed inside now.