It’s a nice day,

The mid morning’s cyan skies and sea green tinted trees

The birch extends its arms just enough for the sunshine to hug you but not enough for you to swelter

The gentle breeze waves

What a nice day, you say

Then you continue on your way.

As you walk among the animals, you count them:

robins, chipmunks, squirrels, and rabbits,

Like reading words off a page

There are infinitely many words and books for you to read

So you forget to cherish the soft ‘h’ sound or how the ‘c’ in cinnamon sounds more like an ‘s’

Lulled by birds humming as they soar in the sky

You fall asleep—.

Later, you are awaken 

By shouting. Two people 

Bickering over who owned 

The parking spot. 

What a normal day. 

In this world, 

Skyscrapers scale toward the sky

Clawing to be the top

And then there’s you,

Existing in the low part

Who gets what is left 

Of the sun light that bounces off the windows of those skyscrapers. 

Your new reality

The Regret fills you.

It fills you like a splotch of dark ink that seeps through white fabric

It starts from the center, a small inkling — yet it’s the first thing you notice

As time goes on, it’s presence grows and grows

Then spreads to the tips

Until the fabric isn’t itself anymore 

(And you are not yourself anymore)

Those mighty oaks that always had something to give 

— skyscrapers that bathe in the sunlight, 

Maybe that’s why they’re so tall.

Those blue blue skies 

— an orange haze,

Wildfires, they said.

Now you finally understand: 

The gentle breeze wasn’t just waving—it was whispering, love me, love me.

Before it’s too late