lately: heaving waves of goldenrod, yellow on yellow on yellow save for constellations of pale purple asters, their spilling and crowding making it impossible to ignore the shifting seasons sliding under our feet. and yet and but and still, a week ago the air was heavy with humidity—summer rolling its reassuring weight over me once more as it leaves—a warmth and familiarity that offered a deceit so kind i didn’t even think twice about forgiving it and did so happily as I walked up to the garden to tie the dahlias to their stakes, saving them from the inevitable heaviness of their heads that would pull them sighing into the dirt. afterwards i walked down the hill and back into the kitchen where the windowsills above the sink sit full with the last of the garden tomatoes, each one splitting open from the wonderful heartbreak of it all. suddenly (impossibly) i feel ready for change.