Tears ping the tin roof following the eruption falling faster the frantic release unstoppable dancing above the duvet swaddled to bare skin lulled by the cacophony evading the chill in this warm bed slightly awake but heavy-lidded aware of an absence and buried in pillows
Untitled ruminations upon the cyclic nature of arriving and departing seasons
Summer is here, again
Is it the failings of memory, coupled with the repeat of routine, blurring together, that causes time to slip away, is it our natural predisposition to exist most potently in the present moment, or perhaps the ever changing nature of all things, manifest in this swift seeming passage of our lives and awareness through time
Perhaps it is time that passes through and over us, sands that shear away the smooth features to coarse lines, crags and pocks, the continual procession of hellos and goodbyes, good mornings and good nights, like waters, their...