Timeless

I'm sitting on my upper deck on the Saturday evening of the last long weekend I will spend in this place. The firepit below still smoulders from a morning of burning 10 years of expired documents. The grass is freshly cut. Leonard Cohen sings in the background. The sun still has a month of north-westerly migration before it hits the height of the solstice directly in front of me. The robins and bluejays are having their evening bug feast and the cardinals are flitting around me. The river flows and glistens, as it always has, as it always will. It matters not whether I am here as witness. I have no effect on these things. All I can do is memorize every detail. I will miss this timeless place.