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
there are some mornings that just don’t lend themselves to self motivation
just a soft capture of a light, carefree moment can rebuild the day
the days get shorter but the colors of summer still try to survive
free to be taken for granted / by those of us fortunate enough
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