A Change in the Air

The sun goes down. The colors deepen.
Seagrass rustles in the wind.

Inland, the dandelions bloom.
Yellow now. Puffballs next week.

In the quarries, thistles begin. Green and prickly.
In a pair of weeks, they will be purple. Still prickly.

Clouds blow in. You smell it.
Rain in the air.

There is a rhythm to it.
Almost predictable.

Beautiful. Sad. Different.
Loss. Gain. Change. Change again.

Breathe in the air. It is always new.
and if you are fortunate,

so are you.

About this poem.

I have been fortunate. It hasn’t always felt that way, but in the end, I have been.

Tom

PS: The picture was taken at Cape Cod.