The sparkle of tinted late summer sunlight added accents to the ordinary, last night. The street, walked 100 or more times, featured the drooping, gold-tinged trees which were just as confused as I was about this suddenly amber weather.

I opened my heart that afternoon in the lemon-yellow shaded chill of my living room, the air conditioner generating it’s chilly hum. White noise to the tune of the music I played and the in and exhale of the breath. The slap of limbs onto the yoga mat; a fiery percussion without meaning, just movement. Exploration. And then it was over and then there was silence, but the energetic vibrations continued to rearrange and pulse, bright yet blended yellow, for that is the color of this part of my being.

The following morning was warm again because last week the earth was confused. This week, the street beams with sad, light particles just starting to take on the edge of a new season; white bright sunlight with a yawning yellow hue, reminiscent of fireplaces and kids costumes and falling leaves. We didn’t see Autumn in Central Park last year, and we missed the cinematic sight, but we did drive across the state in pursuit of structured elegance. We found the neon lights of a Subway and watched the water fall.

We are still sweating in September and I can see the color of your soul.

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