Everywhere is synthetic draught.

Throughout.

I’m swallowing this summer night

It sodden with cicadae song.

The thickness of clock’s hands has changed

They swapped from the minutes to hours;

Nevertheless, still keep going.

Through fingers time is melting.

The fire line is playing in the sky

My curtains catching mildly air motion.

Catching drizzle.

While wind had tangled ibidem.

Hesitations.