it's the twenty-third and august is coming up on her big three-oh. i wonder if she'll have a bash, celebrate september-ness, or the fact that halloween is hiding just down the road.
couldn't tell ya.
though i know goldfinch-leaves are leaving. flying, really. their summer skins don't feel like clinging anymore to those brown as anything limbs. they wanna chirp. be pretty. twirl and swirl away. like the birds
they pretend to be.