It was during the ebb of the week that I noticed it’s gathering near.  More like sensed an approach, really. It wasn’t something I saw. Or heard or smelled. More a slight pressure I felt around my eyes, maybe. Or my head. Or throat.

Could have been even a lessening of pressure, now that I really think about it all. Whatever it was, I felt very calm, quiet as I sensed a feathered rhythm joining with my breath.

Traffic sounds whipped from buzzing insult to whirring wingedness. Birdly buttered voices slipped in and out of my minds seams.  This is what it’s like, I remember thinking.  This absence.  This gliding opening. This preparation for filling.  Like some grace was heading my way and I was letting it get close. And for once closeness was in me and not on me, all heavy and soaked.


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