the waning days of summer… blue and green as ever but the morning wind carries a trace of something else, barely perceptible and the thermometer lies
but the trees know, and the grass knows, and the birds are anxious, dancing light on their feet, stumbling and shouting as if backed into a corner only they can see
the jackets stay on longer. the windows opened later. thoughts, rooted in an implicit disbelief of it all, begin to lose their grip. gradually, then suddenly, now weightless below the branch in a nebulae of orange and yellow
but for now the thermometer holds to its lie
The author marked this model as their own original creation.