The end of summer

Night skies are less heavy with your feet off the ground, sitting three steps up. But still somehow weigh on me with the flower scents from gardens across the street, with the emotions of evening rain hanging over my head.

The end of summer was always a beginning, except here it is more of a feeling than a time.

I haven’t taken any pictures yet. I hope I can, I hope it will never be too late.

Endless, endless sun and the days are filled.

 These days, I am always looking up.