8.14.25 // Late Summer

I feel fall calling — softly, through the dancing leaves of summer.
.
She beckons, promising change, luring me toward an intuitive knowing: that even the most beautiful things must die to be born again.

But I’m grasping for summer... For late sunsets and swimsuits, for sweat tracing the small of my back, for her big personality and bright, burning energy, her promise of spontaneity and adventure - her reflection of me in early mornings, in sultry smiles carried on romantic breezes.
.
Fall waits for no one.
.
No matter my grip, no matter the plea, summer fades- gently, almost imperceptibly- and I wonder if that subtlety is the hardest part. This year, I feel it: the small shifts, the beckoning of fall, the impending fade into dullness and darkness, a season of turning inward, of letting the old die.