Nothing On My Mind

There is nothing on my mind, no deep ponderance or pensive thought that consumes or occupies attention; just random idealizations of the sun, the shade, the skies, the changing of the seasons when for a moment's brief contemplated interlude I can breathe all of life in the sea, the aromatic leftovers of someone's supper, the hint of forestal petrichor upon the grass the crunch of leaves beneath my feet where fallen leaves now cover the uncut grass and all the earth slows, seeks a rest to renew the embodiment of what can yet be in the futures that await.