less than 1 minute read

A flutter of flame consumed leaves
falls onto my crown, drifting embers.

I breathe in lungfuls of wild fennel
drifting from nearby fallow fields.

A buzzard’s shriek echoes over clover
reclaiming every exposed inch of loam.

I have so much time now.
I hold it lightly in my hands,

offer it to the churning sky,
watch it flit away like a finch.

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