Where is my shade going? I visited this mighty and venerable tree for a spell. I’ve since settled under its leafy tapestry. My back against the trunk, my core getting much needed rest. My body bathed in beams of light and blessed with pin pricks of Vitamin D.
Where hope, peace, and stability once resided; the pace of my heart quickens with doubt, restlessness, and shifting grounds. I feel like I’m balancing my body on spinning plates, my core contracted and twisted in great knots.
Knots like the mighty and venerable tree that seems to be withering in this summer of discontent turned fall of flesh failures. What will the silence tell me? What new told lies will attempt to comfort me as demagogues, sycophants, and misers play in my face. Don’t spit in my face and piss on my leg and tell me its raining. The mighty and venerable tree is withering. Its comforting shade receding. Leaves falling to the ground like little girls’ tears. My will and resolve being tested. My body baking in the sun. Will the shade ever return? What’s the estimated time of arrival?