A Future, Winded

the wind does not always blow instead
it rests to catch its breath from
foosh and fighting against itself
but then
i am not the wind -

the sea is often wet though not forever
slapping smashing rocky reefy stumbles
sprays itself is high and dried
by rested zephyr sunny fried
and then again
i am not the sea -

the sun sheds light except at night
when hiding from a curtain call
and sure it's said
another side is
always brightened
i'm never certain since i'm not there
and while I care

i am not the sun.


A small, mint-colored squibble dousing the fiery temperaments of red, yellow, and orange

Watercolor Pencil on Arches 14" x 10"

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