The whisper low. The flutter of a leaf too lazy to fall. The faint scent telling tales of the distant. A puff of dust where it is dry. Ripples where it is not. Ragged flower tops desiccate and shedding. Desultory paper on the move. A hint of moisture incoming, Maybe warm, maybe cool, Too soon to tell. The hair out of place. The film obscuring the shiny surface. The hillocks of a moment. The tide in the trees. The grasses bowing in deference. The changes heralded. Almost imperceptible, Ephemeral and invisible, Yet too elemental to be stopped. I wait to see what comes. Cliff Lake 12/18/2023 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2023
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