Too little sleep in November, catching up in December. That rare afternoon sun. Disappearing across the water before the day has begun. Morning coffee at two. Inhaling the quiet, the dust in mid air. Telling myself not to care. A rower cuts the water, double image paired with the trees, now here and then gone. Lawn crispy. Deer traces set in the cold. Walking my feet warm. A smile for a stranger. The dusk creeps closer until it is here, time to settle my dear.