today. i find myself upon the edge of almost everything. the early evening hours passing unforgotten minutes seconds hanging on the air like moths unto a flame.
i find myself above the river’s waters where the rush of power pushes on. a momentarily divided current thundering in opalescence ‘cross a weir where floats a sense of the uneasy.
here. upon the verge of almost anything there is a re-returning to more youthful kind of days. where bright young leaves unfurl like wings in wait for blossoms marrying confetti. ‘neath an early evening sun. this fingernail of land becomes a reason to continue. river now an ocean. gulls inland because of storms at sea. the breeze an ozone filled extravaganza blowing all the down-at-hearts away. until a gentle rustle under foot asserts the welcome sound of autumn. which will come again. to spread her deathly carpet.
almost grateful for the grief with which our winters grasp us in their claws the wind so cold it bites ones face and leaves the heat of breath a frozen chalice.
