I sat outside in anger counting fire flies while the wind wept mosquitoes kindly from my consideration. My mind was louder than sky and I could feel my merry go round of thoughts pull darkly until it seemed I was sitting outside myself. The sun, long set, left traces of its goodbye in backlit whispy cloud patterns thanking Earth for another day. I did not think it wise to invite hope when the dense chatter of night robins warned of wicked things. Animals knew things humans refused to know and they were speaking through wide beaks. You are outside yourself. You must get back inside. Crawl into being and realize all this blood is a temporary problem. But instead I was peering through bent grass where a careful spider crossed over his own mountains not even seeing mine. In that moment, he was big.