Moss

Green patience blooms on the back of a stone bench, feathered and soft as a held breath.

Nothing rushes here— the fence post learns its lessons slowly, leather-brown changing to the color of old coins.

Somewhere a gardener gave up, and now the world offers its gift: transformation without demand, beauty that costs nothing but time.

The moss knows something we've forgotten— how to settle, how to become part of what holds you.