Wane of the Moon

I was born in it, it comforts me, and perhaps I need comfort.

Little sleep tonight, not pain as such; turns out cold and dry combined with anti-inflams did the trick. But I was restless and sad, and got up to face the moon.

I haven't put up Halloween decorations yet, because my hand and health were generally too bad for it. Today I will carve a pumpkin, maybe put something in the front garden. But the truth is, under all those golden leaves making the lawn look so lawlessly happy, it is hard to feel the fun of Halloween, because Death is near the door, silent and deafeningly loud this year from Acapulco to Gaza, everywhere and close by.

Stop taking those drugs, he says, and I will come for you soon, no war, no storm, a little pain perhaps. Then my great quiet will find you.

Went out to look at the moon as it lit the clouds in a way that makes them seem still when they aren't, so the stars appear to be flying upwards. Sent my regards to my friend who just passed. Hope he's OK, sure he is actually.

We weren't close mates or anything, in fact, I am not even sure he liked me really; he might have considered me akin to one of those horses that puts back its ears and chomps in warning, an ornery creature more trouble than it's worth. But he was always pleasant and courteous, and he made a good friend of mine very happy. And I know, by that same strange moon watching me along Orion's march, that he will be fine. A bird started singing in the house martin's nest right by my favourite window, only a few notes but it reminded me that despite the dark, sunrise won't be long.