The season is changing.

It started after the last solstice,

Unbeknownst to most.

The air is turning faster now,

And the leaves are too.

Better catch yourself some sun,

Bask in his rays,

Let his fingers stroke your back,

Cover you in delicate licks and laps from the blue-painted heavens,

Before he takes his slumber.

It’s sooner than you think.

Take the sun,

And let him take you.