There is a ring of dead fish where the last puddle of the lake was just last week
And I thought immediately about the smell it will generate.
It is not what Autumn is supposed to be…
Leaves turning and the weather cooling.

And so it is with so many things.


I think of cycles. Of the turning of the wheel.
Of birth and life and decay. And the way we mark time.

And I think maybe that we have done all this before.

And that things are not they way they are supposed to be.
And it stinks.


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