They leave mid-afternoon, say lock the door when you're ready to go, say take your time and enjoy the tree, life in the country feels like a long afternoon of Sundays, feel like you can stretch your legs and fill your lungs, I went for a run in the sunshine and remembered through all the thickets there is always a current of gratitude. A dark year races toward its inevitable end, we try to shed it like layers, like skin that no longer serves us, if you shake confidenly enough can these feathers molt until the wings are made new?
I am tired early but go to bed late, time is irrelevant in the country, Monday approaches but it feels less like Monday and more like shouldn't we spend long mornings drinking coffee by the tree? Life is coming, everything's coming,
what do you want to be like
when it is here?
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