of orange marshmallows in the sky,

of tickling pinpricks of drizzle, with the summer ground and few fallen rotting leaves

giving us the smells of coming Autumn— thick and sweet with dew

and distantly crisp.

It’s another thoughtful-feeling night

of really just feelings, of trying to find with inward eyes, that which ever eludes me.

A place for Atman or Him himself— a path of Chi,

of solace inside my tumbling mind.

gbf