The news report on the radio mentioned something about sun
And all around, revelers, bob between waves of light
Shadows playing eternal catch up--
But somewhere along the way I missed the word
And clouds, swaying from the hidden winds, form sunglasses,
In shaded vision I walk
Dragging my heels, the many fingers that crunch and snap beneath the weight
Fallen from the silent giants that dot the roadside,
How reckless, absently rejecting the parts well-worn
The memories
Litter the concrete, a gravesite, a memorial to progress and growth
So much for holding onto the past.
I’ll take a branch and be on my way through the shade
And, smiling, whisper to nothing but the wind:
One day we all become twigs.