it’s not emotion it’s a feeling in the gut that might be hunger
alone, overlooked together, they’re noticed as individuals
just because they say rules are meant to be broken some aren’t worth it
a path closed to us cannot be opened without significant risk
cracks in the surface can expose the buried past and help wash it clean
it’s a subtle shift between cicadas singing and leaves’ colors changing
something that tiny should be at the wind’s mercy but we know better
perched in the window ever vigilant, the guard quietly protects
the change is unseen yet we gauge how time passes by watching decay
the trick is not to always be moving, it’s to look it when you’re not
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