march 22, 2021

the child looked down at her elderly hands, and wondered 
where all that time went. she looked up at the sky, at the 
afternoon clouds, concluding that it was about to 
rain.

the flat, boring light in this time of day was the thing 
that had interested her the most: not good for photography 
or poetry or song, but right here, in person, it's such a 
beautiful sight.

when you can see for miles in the old suburban street, and 
your mind becomes as silent as the air, and the lukewarm 
breeze smells like flowers and cement, as it elegantly 
dances through your fingers and your hair.

a pidgeon, a squirrel. a father and his child. she sat back 
and wondered if this is all there was.