In the moment now

I can hear crickets outside my window.

It's been a damp sort of day, rain coming down intermittently, evaporating into the air only to fall again on the steaming pavement.

I've stayed inside mostly, trying to catch up on some things in my apartment, taking an unexpected nap late in the afternoon.

And now, wakeful, having watched the moon rise red from the cloudbanks and then seeing it paling towards white as it nears and then passes its zenith, I can hear the sound of crickets in between the vague roarings of cars going by the intersection near my apartment.

I can hear in the silence of the evening something like the quiet watchful resting of moonlit mountain nights.

And it tastes like home.