Cicadas serenade the neighborhood.  The little brown dog rests her greying muzzle on the smoothness of the wood floor.  A light over the sink in the kitchen shines through the stained glass pieces danging on a silken cord.  I sit in darkness broken only by the glow of the computer screen.

Somehow even words fail me tonight.  My armor falls away; my unused voice sounds harsh in the heavy air around me.  I hold a list of tasks that stand undone.  My eyes flutter closed.  I choke on my complaint.

I take one step forward then stumble, falling backwards, losing ground.   This is the longest year; my never-ending year.  Night falls on the tenth day of its thirty-first month.  Joy still eludes me.  I beckon sleep.  Life continues.