When the earth shook I was comfortable in my leather chair
Not wanting anything
The power knocking off patio lights,
Stripped branch leaning from winter storms no longer etched in mourning light from the zonked lamp planted in the dirt. It was off.
Smoking a cigarette at sunset--that's the only time--before night falls, and I wondered if the sun would come around in the morning.
Nature, having a way with light, shaking of earth.
All things, really.