I try to shrug the sunlight off my shoulder, mistaking it for leaf or feather, the mind stumbling over these slipped senses. The sun unmoved by any of my ministrations, it settles into shine. The colors confound me anyway, my eyes lacking cones or the cones poorly tuned for perception. The bright of the sun, the blue of the sky both trying so hard to persuade me the world still wants me. These tricks of heat and light always just holding back the fall.
We bristle and we banter, our thoughts always dancing like plumes on the water, our thoughts always flowing out to some forgetful sea. Belief a stone that breaks the surface briefly only to sink and settle below the rushing tide. The restless minds that lap and light with the senses smoothing the sunken stone that hold us against the relentless flow. These words we wear as though they mattered. These words always so close to folly or flight.
The dust swirls, the dust settles. These fingers close around another gentle day. The flesh leans into this fair weather, faith a full stomach and warm toes. Children shout and dogs start their ruckus, the autumn seeming just the summer with shirts and shoes. The things I feel I think I know the most, the things I think feeling like strangers on the road. I close my eyes and let the blessing linger. I close my eyes with the darkness coming on.