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I Am Santo

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The Fleeting

Late afternoon summer clouds in Kingston, NY
iPhone 5 shot

Close these days without effort. Sing them out of their duty and release yoke from necks strained by repetitive toil. A circuit broken, the hours stretch out in a straight line leading to a final sunset when kisses striate clouds over a leafy horizon and love sneaks glimpses of life as a tired sun. Strong enough to still burn eyes with heat and wonder, we stare at this goodbye, closing our eyes so it might gain permanence in the dark of our slumber. We awake with the hope of a renewed chance to steal again.

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