The sky drains away in a flurry of stars, those blinking hints at distance. Everything sways and springs as the winds sprint through the gauze of green leaf and brittle branch. Tree limbs flay, reaching up in ache or surrender. Eyes blur and water, adding uncertainty to the unknown.
The spent day is measured in smoke and trash. It is measured in breathless hush and disproportionate ache. The countdown and the calendar, recycled digits and no more firsts at last. Sweat slips and trickles, burned skin and a cooling trend. Vision pools in the corners. Vision crusts the edges of the seen. That boulder still keeps rolling. The hill only slopes up.
Time once was I could see past the horizon. Time once was I could see in the dark. Illness and age worry away the old records. The mission that is accomplished is the one I never could attempt. The clock on the mantle grinds away the days. Looking forward all I see is silt.