Moments

The wind moves like thought, brushing the edges of the world, a quiet hum in the distance. Leaves fall, not in haste, but in the rhythm of knowing the ground has been waiting. Clouds drift slowly, as if time has forgotten its urgency, and the sky stretches vast, a canvas left untouched. Somewhere, a river speaks, its voice steady and ancient, carving the silence with its flow. You stand still, feeling the weight of moments passing, but they pass like shadows, unnoticed until they’re gone.