June 26 | First Call

Long after the last rays of light fall onto the last open eyes, signaling the end of the last day—

Long after every deadbolt slides home to the right, locking the last of the door, open now only to the occasional eye, looking out into an empty night—

Long after every dishwasher in every dish pit leans back and, sighing, unties their apron, soaked in the effort of a long day, their shoes still waterlogged, squeaking slightly all the way to the car—

Does the world call it quits for the night? Letting it all wind down? Or is it preparing, rolling coils in its legs like a sprinter, waiting for the gunshot of the morning, pressing and forcing all things at the same time?

Or, to put it in the simplest terms, does nature know the difference between endings and beginnings? Shouting out last call just to ready itself for the next day?… Read the rest