we would let ourselves slip into the skin of a sorry place, where one would try to save on the vowels in long words, in order to come to a conclusion that would remain inside ourselves, while watching the late blooms.
*first put online in April 2019, edited in April 2023 with a different photo
the flowers' pollen
has been scattered everywhere
cough is in the air
I will not disturb the water
I will let the time pass
and make its own story
or follow the wind
I'll let myself go in
the rhythm of things
the coming and going
of the world 
... but to surprise summer in the middle of the city, then the silence of the pond soiled by the ducks, the ripe fruit, the abundance, another day on earth, it will rain tomorrow 
deleting sentences
before creating new ones
to write one’s life
*first posted in January 2021, edited in January 2022