The roses have buds. Branches glow, casting brisk lines. Cranes blot the sky as the earth sheds the day. The seasons have changed and the world feels crisp, crunchy.

The sog battles the snap underfoot. Giving with one step, resisting the next, I feel the transition dance through my soul.

My timing is off. The beat, I’ve lost. I am not the only one out of sequence.

It’s time I pause to join once again in the rhythm of things.