Ten.Two Thousand, Six Hundred & Eighteen
Big bright moon glowing.
The sun.
More broccoli and cheddar quiche.
A little walk in the fresh air. These are not the right kind of shoes for puddles and wet leaves.
The color of the sky in winter.
I look at the clock and think about only one thing.
It’s bad, but not as bad as last year.
Small but mighty.
Dare I say it?
“Each one was you tending a dying garden.”