Why not an old poem?


The sky outside is a bit peaceful in its gray vestments.

The overcast and the receding light in the distance creating a contrast, an interplay, that makes me just want to lay here and watch it unfold.

The leaves loll, massive tongues captured and bitten lightly by what could be imaginary breezes when what we cannot see is that they are really just panting, breathing in and out, an act of respiration.

Just the world in its hidden mechanisms, living as we might.


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