The unrelenting sun and the motion of it all
has given way to crackling grass
beneath my feet.
The smell –
of earth, decay,
and the passing of time –
fills me completely.
The word sounds like the gentle fading,
the slow cessation of the life and overabundance
that is summer.
What remains is life
stripped down to its essentials.
All else can fade away now.
You’ve had your time to be busy,
to run at full tilt, to lavish in the gaudiness
of leaves and light.
Now go, go home to that quiet place.
Go back to where you came from,
to the simple hum, the hymn,
the chorus of it all,
the ring of the one true note
beneath it all.
Come find me there with open arms.