It's almost a relief to find life unraveling. On this late summer morning that carries just enough chilled wind to quicken the heart. It sings to me in soothing tone. Like a silent wave.
We are all tired now. It is time to rest.
I cannot help but notice this as a weaving coming undone. And the lovely space between the threads appearing. As a journey slows. Falls away.
The gentlest breeze moves through.
Space for a deeper breath.
No need for mending it sings.
The "Boy" turns 35 this weekend. See you in September.