1355.

Calendars marking
some memorial of the
loss of moving time.

1354.

We dress so many
days up as some idea of
honor on paper.

1353.

The impending fall
of the senses as engulfed
by youth's passing time.

1352.

These months are built on
yearning and lures, held up by
the summer looming.

1351.

A thousand lures of
flesh. An eye's feast made hungry
by slow seduction.

1350.

I would coat myself
in your voice and call this skin
a constant tempting.

1349.

The nights of this time
of year are sheer perfection.
Breezes and moonlight.

1348.

The sun spirals its
own hypnosis in the sky.
Mere mortals, beware.

1347.

Time seems to pass so
much quicker here. Age winding
down its own patience.

1346.

There is no longer
any respite from pattern's
return. Just vengeance.

1345.

The weather is now
displaced and nature angry.
Their beasts turn burden.

1344.

Broken scales make up
this landscape. Earth upended
by machinations.

1343.

The weight of living
costs its own survival. A
bare dichotomy.

1342.

An imbalance of
beauty and destruction here,
always left hanging.