breathe it in
while you can;
the sound of naked trees
their leaves furled and browning
caught in spider’s silk
not falling, not yet
breathe it in;
the sunlight waking behind the clouds
sleepily reaching for the constantly bustling river
think of the pause
think of the moment before the first cup of tea
breathe it in;
the tender weight behind your ribs
dare to acknowledge it
and understand its purpose
outside it is cold and calm and quiet
you can feel the weight settle
reassured
the silence feels like Christmas morning
like time has been reset
the moment is discreet and brief
like unrequited affection
to be lost under closed eyelids
unnoticed, necessary
breathe it in;
the stillness is encompassing
like the patched coverlet around your shoulders
breathe it in
while you can;
this is how it begins
Splendid Fred Magazine 