47th birthday, tacos and tamales in the park on a sunny afternoon, riverside table, al fresco, gulls and crows overhead, black and white on blue.
People on the benches watch the river water course along or at screens in their hands, a young couple wander by, they look at each other and seem to be the most happy out of all of us here except maybe the crows and gulls but who knows what happiness feels like to a crow? 
People arrive riverside, stay a few minutes and then move on to some other place. I am eating tacos and watching what I see, today is my birthday and the river water makes a noise. The county jail is on the other side of the river. All I hear is water, I smell lime and corn, see people sleeping on benches, see sunlight on everything equally see myself, my taco is gone my time beside the river is done.
Move on to the porch, unpack birthday gifts from me to my self. A new pad of yellow paper, a new pack of black pens tools to continue, to try again and again, an effort towards harmony rather than consensus. 
Effort of good enough, repetition of ending repeat conclusion, every spring the crops are planted for the harvest.
The return of what was absent, consciousness, the sun, shadows, winter, the full moon, Orion in the southern sky means my birthday is near at hand, another journey around the sun, back to where I started from, awake, aware, in the sunlight