Autumnal Equinox
It seems that just a breath ago you hung, suspended sideways on the playground swing, in weightless sun, to peer across the bar to distant shady green.
And now, blood-draining rush, too fast, too soon, the skin drags down your face in hurtle past the ground toward that shadowed gloom.
This moment marks the midpoint, just, between the light and dark. The rush bequiles that end is nigh, but pull on through, and thrust: feel the arc curve through the dusk and back again, toward the light once more.
