there are many things I know here –
where to get coffee in the morning,
the sound of the church bells ringing,
the tune of Our Father.
but there are many things I want to ask, like
is there an actual monk ringing those church bells in the service?
and, why are there so many knobby hills in Kentucky?
and, do you get bored of your every-day-the-same life here?
and, how did you know you wanted to be a monk?
I don’t even attempt to answer these difficult questions of the universe.
On my loop of the garden, I feel someone staring at me and turn around. The moon winks coyly at me. I offer a shy smile back and tease, “come on now, don’t pretend you’re not just borrowing the rays of the sun, you beautiful thing.”
But then, am I not doing the very same thing?
I’ve never lived here, but Kentucky charms me in a special way. I don’t know what this means for our future together, but I take note of my feelings.
I drive through the country on my way home and everything is flooded, brown water, green grass. I stop in Louisville and watch everything turn gray outside with water pouring from the sky.
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