watchmaker

Spring has long ago vanquished winter's lions, shaved their white manes and cast them to the poles, forcing them north to regroup.Summer's rolling in, powered by Dylan's green fuse, a palanquin carried on the shoulders of forsythia and lilac. It's a cold, smear of a sun that paints the sky today though. The sun isn't rising like a hot coal this morning however, it's more dissolving, diffusing into a yellow smudge, indisinct. The sun just isn't itself today. I guess I'm not either.