[Intro, still warm air, one small shift already underway, unhurried] the afternoon is still hot enough to argue with but the light has changed its mind about something [Verse 1, close and conversational, noticing rather than concluding] nothing on the calendar has moved the thermometer says what it said last week and yet the shadow of the fence falls a little further into the yard than it did I notice it the way you notice a song ending before the last chorus some part of me already knows and hasn't told the rest of me yet [Verse 2, same restraint, the evening arriving underneath the heat] by six the insects have changed their shift a thinner sound, further back, less certain the heat is still here, holding its ground but it is arguing with something patient I don't need to decide how I feel about this whether it is a loss or a mercy it is allowed to be neither it is allowed to be the middle of it [Bridge, instruments thin out, dulcimer and room tone only, one held breath] nothing is over and nothing is the same and both of those are true at four in the afternoon [Chorus, warm and wide, opening gently, never lifting into volume] so let it turn without me watching let it take the time it takes I am not being left behind I am standing inside the change [Outro, gentle resolution, the light settling, full stop ending] tomorrow will be hot again and the light will keep its new angle anyway I will not mark the day it happened I will only remember noticing
