It Doesn't Matter

A jet, invisible far overhead, rumbles across the sky as cicadas sing in the woods. Who is up there to look down on us for those few brief seconds as they pass on their way from Milwaukee to someplace out east, to Detroit, to Cleveland, to Toronto? Who is up there?

It doesn't matter. The rumbling is gone now as fast as it came. Yet the wind is still blowing and the cicadas still singing, and the sun has just set behind the clouds in the west. And nighttime has begun spreading out from under the hemlock trees.

It doesn't matter who was up there, for you are here with me, and I am here with you, and the water and wind and the trees are here, and the sky. It doesn't matter, because we have the evening all to ourselves.

It doesn't matter who they were or where they were going, because we are here amid all this around us, amid the trees and water and birds and singing cicadas, and time is briefly standing still.

---
Honeymooning at Emerson Pond in Oceana County, MI
9:26:47 AM   permalink: []   feedback:   comments: []