Water runs dirty Down the street, in the gulleys Rain falls: clarity.

Your words like a drum beating in my brain, the same refrain over and over again.  My armor holds. The words shatter and fall.

“Congratulations” Says everyone else in my life. You say: “Are you sure you’re qualified?” instead. I assure you: I’m enough.

Deep slate contrastingvibrant red and orange huesfalling to carpetthe ground. My hands upturned to receive autumnal blessing.

It’s not thinking lessof yourself.  It’s thinking ofyourself less.  This isa ram’s horn’s composition:Humility’s perfection.

Crunchy grass, withered flowers; my yard’s a desert. I smile as dark clouds hang low overhead. Birds stop singing. I smile: Rain.  

Water whispers in the trees; the drops cool my skin. Running in the rain…

Sparks of light flicker Here, gone, there, gone; tricking eyes to search the darkness.

The yarn is tangled. Just when I think there’s progress more knots appear. The more I try, the worse it gets. I shrug and put the mess down.

The field was plowed, dirt turned over; fresh after a long winter’s lockdown. Hail and snow, long into spring makes the harvest uncertain.