Part of me believes I could easily live my life in the post-midnight hours, constrained by the dark and the absence of consciousness of all I hold dear. But tonight there are glimmers under the changing moon that I will outlast this and not every after needs shoring up someday soon, it will be June and the night. So very brief that the in between reads like nothing but showers of blossom, blithe, blatant blossom, the wind's answer ㅡ to why spring sets you free.