I stand on a porch lit only by a string of cafe lights that I found on the internet.  The glow softens the edges of the leaves in the branches swaying overhead.  Night has seeped into the surrounding acreage, land that huddles below sea level adjacent to the wide San Joaquin.

Chilly air ruffles the wisps of grey hair surrounding the turned collar of my sweater.  I raise my eyes to seek the moon, bright against the deep blue of the night sky.  My eyes close, lashes fluttering against the pale skin of my cheek.  I hear the call of the nightbirds, the rustle of the little critters under my house, and the traffic noise on the distant highway.  Each shimmering sound drifts across the island to where I stand.  The Delta settles itself for sleep, for restful hours, for a short, restorative hibernation that will yield to the rising sun. 

My arms lift and wrap themselves around my body.  Car lights briefly sweep across the spot where I stand.   An owl hoots overhead, then lifts its great wings and crosses the meadow to the tall cedar where its mate awaits him.  A flutter of leaves settle on my neighbors roof in the wake of the bird’s launch.

My breath rises and falls, rises and falls, rises and falls.  Something uncoils within me, dropping away as yet unnamed.  A timer clicks and the string of lights suddenly dim.  I wait in my doorway, in the gloom, eyes closed, listening as the life around me fades into a certain stillness.  I linger for as long as I can tolerate the cold, then step into the house and close the door behind me.

Mugwumpisly tendered,

Corinne Corley

The Missouri Mugwump®