Sitting in the night, awaiting the coming storm. Seems to be a lot lately. Rain fills the gauges, the rivers, the streams, the ponds, the lakes. R.E.M. plays in the background… Man On The Moon. Troubles pile up like rocks in a wall in the yard. One by one it grows to someday be something useful while the troubles just beat one down like rain. Rain will grow the garden… food to eat… food for thought. Troubles pour out as if from a cauldron on high and grows my sorrow and weariness. It’s been a long fight. I’m not a kid anymore. I wish I knew what quit was… I would… if I could. Tomorrow comes. And with it, the rain… and the troubles. I know both will have the last laugh on me someday. I find that funny. I laugh at the rain… the troubles… I’m tired.