I’ve hidden a lot of the things I wrote in August. I’d share them again if you’d ask. Perhaps it was a turning point in Silence during those countless hours watching ripples. Or was it the mass unhinging of others’ minds that caused my prolific pen? I remember the full moon caused tears to roll down into my tea cup. That weary weight from six years ago once again laid upon my shoulders. Those many days of walks in rain wondering if the lightning would wander my way. I counted the seconds the cormorants could hold their breath without realizing I was holding my own. Gasping for something more than air. Sunset. Sunset. Sunset again. I was alive as those colors changed. I could see myself from far away smiling, hoping the next would be as grand. Those words were for then, and these are for now. Everything has grown and withered away. Autumn ends. I’ve hidden a lot of the things I wrote in August. I’d share them again if you’d ask.