it is the time of year again
when everything feels fragile;
pregnant with possibility...
tentative
the world swells and shakes from within
the heat recedes
houses throw out their tenants
onto cool streets
and everyone is quiet;
waiting
and the air is light
but minds are heavy
with the feeling that everything
will soon burst into flames
that in one moment
everything will change
and the people strain
afraid of missing the moment
and this is the part I always forget to love
the part that I always forget to look forward to
the slow building anticipation
before the fall
