Hearing and Losing Count

Hearing owls at dusk serves as a reminder that half the world doesn't start moving until the Sun goes down.  The cover of darkness isn't enough.  Life keeps on moving.

Every bit counts.  Instantly, they turn on.  Grouped, they flip to infinity.

Hours pass.  Time turns on, one bit at a time.

1-1-1-1

I'm probably not interesting enough.  Where I am is probably where I'll stay.  Years piled on too quickly.

The sound of that same freight train I've heard my whole life still reminds me of wanting to get out.  Now, there's not really anything to escape but myself... and I'm kinda starting to tolerate the old guy.