Act I / Spring, Unmade

♱

Season One

━━━━━━━━━━

It's the second week of August. Are you dreading the end.
Its bare shoulders and laze and remembering your body.
Or are you, like me, tired of the glare. Waiting for a storm.
Eager for the days to grow shorter, the sharpness of a blue morning, something like a beginning. The too early piles of brown leaves remind me that it is easier to pine, to ache, than to sit in the current of the sun as it washes over my longing. It swells while I look the other way.

Madisen Kuhn