A path spilling out the meadow to meet the clouds at a horizon blurred like a mirage.
The noontime blaze of a sun warming all those who do not warm themselves.
Letters pile up in a virtual mailbox, unread. Text never find its way to a phone, turned off.
Today I walk in the woods. 10AM to whenever: wander.
There are no goalposts; the land on the other side of the hill is unknown.
Twilight seagull cries. The ocean beckons with foam-crested fingers. Come with me and you too, will become sand. Break into small things. Small things last forever, because they do not try to be.