Dear Occasion,
Do you remember brown? It was fog one day. And the day, it held children in the air, sweetly, with tributes of energy and release. We who are older, no fault to us, stood, let ourselves be seen, smiled. When we said “Okay”, we were loud but right. Then we readjusted. Tomorrow becomes a panoply.
Brown became, rightly enough. We who oversee understanding like trickles. The scape, that sense, was tomorrow full of blooms. Blooms of Wattage, exult, wastage, light light light, and the trees.
Now we say now, each of us in this vice. Now the tender orange memory, the leaves without chlorophyll, or time registered as rebate. Today the temperate example means fog, and the elevation of query. Process processes, what else would words do? We do what the words say. You have been this moment. Today. Thank you for every,
Yours,
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