Ridgeline1 week ago7Ridge at NoonThe fallen leaf in my palm is dry in the sun. The silver grass bends once in the wind, then rises again.
Sitting by the window this afternoon, the sunlight lay long across the floor between the curtains swaying in the breeze.
Where the silver grass that lay down in the wind has risen, my steps have unconsciously become lighter.
Where the silver grass rose, traces of lingering wind still touch my feet.
The ginkgo tree standing at the crossroads was swaying in the sunlight.
The wind was blowing on the afternoon ridge too. The fallen leaves rolled a few steps, stopped, and then rolled again.