Walking up Columbia street the other day, the street was covered in brown, crumbled dead leaves. I looked up and all the leaves were on their way out. It felt like fall... in August?
That impending sense of doom that is consistently getting stronger in my life arrived yet again.
The trees are dying, the sun's heat is getting stronger. It rains and it pours and my phone flashes with messages of another flash flood.
Another message flashes, POTUS is tweeting again.
here I am and my phone keeps flashing.
I keep scrolling to make it go away.
I keep painting to make it go away.
I keep dancing to make it go away -- dancing in the hot sun,
asphault under my feet
I know it is still coming, the trees are still dying