To Be Here

They have lost their green to the evening, that time when shadows darken the landscape and everything is a varying shade of black or deep blue. The setting sun is yellow-orange behind them. Their beans hang from the vines lifelessly. There is no movement in the air, no wind to shake them up. It is that way with life. We stand there, small or large trees, and we suffer in times of distress and we thrive in times of abundance. Times when the rain falls exactly when it needs to and the rain leaves as if told by the director that it is Exit, Stage Right. The rain has fallen hard this day. Night comes creeping around in all of her reddish orange glory wondering if anyone is looking. She struts her stuff, calming me as victim. I swoon in admiration. I don;t care if anyone recognizes swoon as a word any longer. I am swooning. Swanning. Watching the sky gorw darker with all of that red behind her. Thinking how glad I am to be here for this unfolding, for this presentation, for this grand show which has me so firmly rooted in the world of want to be here.