Waiting

You can wait all day and nothing'll happen. And that sure is more true when there aint much of the day left.
I feel like I been here before.
Everything's become hushed. No distant cry of coyote or bark of dog.
The world, and everything in it, is holding its breath.
It isn't waiting for night, that's for sure. That's already here. And then I remember the gunshot and my stomach flips because I think of Clint and I thank God, in whatever clothes He be wearing while He be moving them mountains, that I haven't heard another shot. Yet.