She hears the speed of the wind
as a chatter through the banquet
in slow motion
pressing upon her path
She turns around and sees
faces from the future
into the past
feigned stability
It is fragile
like all consistency
that shatters in your hands
bleeding through
the dream you once again
wake up from
to put it together
a curious montage
silhouettes
she does not identify
yet, recognize
to let the chatter pass
she becomes invisible
let the fallen leaves be her mind
rest in the season.
11/2/2021, Carrboro
devolved thoughts from a hiking trip