The night in the barnyard is in and of itself a muse.
I hope that years from now, if I'm taken away to live somewhere else–that I'll remember the nights here. I have momentary thoughts of years fast forward, and I am somewhere else, thinking of Apifera, the animals–maybe trying to remember names or the sequence of events–just as I tried to remember some college classmates today as I lay in bed. Will I be haunted by melancholy, or lifted up by those thoughts. I don't know–but the night and the almost full moon made me think of such things as I walked back from the barn.
