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 These days time rushes, earth cools, the sun sets earlier and earlier, and the season changes gears in fits and starts, all is bustling towards end of year, towards darkness – and me wanting to linger just for a moment longer, but time is flowing in a steady stream of transitions, mutations, transformations, acceleration of loss of light – 

 – and the moment my knife cuts the tomato's skin, a burnished melancholy alights in my fingertips, all losses rolled into one big ball of yarn waiting to be unspooled, a moment that is not sure of…. but breath flows on, carries me over thresholds unknown….

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