Peacefully Distant

Can't I look?  

Can't I glare?  

Can't I stand, waiting for light to bounce off the trees?  

Wishing it were me up there.  

Leaf after leaf -- 

Branch beneath branch -- 

A tensing shadow, which crafts of pine and evergreen grow from.  

Can't I climb? 

 Can't I invoke your movement?  

Can't I stand, peacefully distant?  

Unaware of the skies . . .

All Nighters

Does it always feel necessary pulling an All Nighter?  When does sleep seem feasible?  I often wonder . . . Many times I've stayed up late, trying to get a few more revisions in.  Pacing.  Trying to get the last few chapters read, highlighted and marked. Even trying to get my last break; multitasking; avoiding procrastinating.  Still pacing.  Running from my agenda.  Stepping outside.  Going for a walk.  Getting in the car to drive -- just a short distance to a familiar location.  Pacing my mind for what needs to happen.  What should be taking place.  What has to get done.  I'm still awake?  When the birds are sauntering in the treetops, stretching their wings and preparing their beaks to pucker a sound . . . I am still awake.  Looking at the sides of the wall.  Looking out the window.  Waiting for the time on my clock to change.  Pacing.  Multitasking?  Procrastinating?  All of the above.  And yes, still pacing;  my mind traveling ferociously as if it were escaping its sudden fate -- blankness.  But, alas, I guess it's time to avoid the clock and continue working.  I'll post something later, once I'm suppose to be awake . . .