Rain falls, and the cats are out. Max is in his nest with me. The crickets are quiet, and clouds drift over the moon. The flowers bloom wildly, at the end of summer, and the colors cool my brain. I love the shape of the leaves on the flowers, the second bloom. I love the herd of butterflies that visits everyday; the zinnia is so lovely. The flower on the nightstand is purple, it's seeds covered in purple fuzz.
Good, busy, busy, busy day yesterday, and I need days like that. I have been stupid. My Trazadone, a medication of mine, is not a sleeping pill only. It's also an anti-anxiety and an anti-depressant. The stupidity comes from not taking it, because I have been able to get to sleep, recently. Now my moods are mobile and on a roller coaster. Obviously, nothing I can't handle, as I cut last night/yesterday morning. Nothing big, just some shallow cuts, and I had some comparisons at group yesterday, from others who have cut. They have the scars to prove it, their flesh rippling silver over the old cuts.
Time for the moon.
It's time for the moon, a hair cut, to twist the curls around the greys that show. It's time for Halloween, and the dead who walk the night. It's time for the northern winds that bring the unicorn herds that race at midnight. It is time for the cool rains, and the wet winds of September. Time for the footsteps the leaves make, as they shuffle past the door. Time for the house to knock at the windows, as it settles in for Fall.
Time for the moon.
I can mark the seasons to come, by the pumpkins and chrysanthemums on sale by the roadside. They mix with the peaches, fragrant and juicy. The last of the summer's plums roll in their dark purple flesh, that dissolves beneath my teeth. In childhood, I gathered plums away from the herds of cows and children, that came to plunder. I still feel the rough bark against my arms, and I mark it's memory onto my skin.
It's time for moonset, and time to come out of the forest.