It’s a gift, this november night warm enough for you to walk without a jacket along your favorite path. The rhythmic shushing of your feet through fallen leaves should be enough to quiet the mind, so it surprises you when you catch yourself with your pain, injustices, all the things you’ve never said circling inside you.
It’s the rising wind that pulls you out of it, and you look up to see a cloud of leaves swirling in moonlight, flickering against the blue and rising above the treetops, as if it were sighing, let it go, for this moment atleast, let it all go.
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