The marigold flowers, planted in rows, offered up a stark orange flag.
There is that moment when the summer sun is muted.
The afternoon is quiet.
I notice I am pressing my lips together more, not humming, but holding back.
I don't even know what to say to the woman handing me the coffee.
The morning is quiet.
The people run near the lake, the gleam of their phones lighting up the path
as if they are lighting bugs
some sit in solitude
others gather for a picnic, winding down, it's dark now.
Save for the roar of the lake
the night is quiet.
I went out to see the lunar eclipse
but it wasn't there,
perhaps that's the whole point.