As the shade ebbs and flows.
Tinkers and wanes.
There is a playful game.
Herein lies the difference between the ground below.
And, the time that flies above.
So careful in its place…maple leaf on a breezy chase.
The punctured weeds…not a trace of milky embrace.
Cat O’ 9, growing tired from the punishment.
Resting wearily with the sun at its back.
Before the winds came there had been a pact.
Be small, be torn, but take heed of the facts.
There are no wars to be won…
surrounded by tinted glass.