The Earth Smells Like Rain

Something has shifted, quietly, the way seasons change before anyone announces it. I wake up now and feel the air differently on my skin, lighter, less crowded with old weight. I don't know exactly when the turning happened, but I trust it the way I trust roots to know which way is down.

I'm not asking to forget what came before. I'm asking to carry it differently, with open hands instead of clenched fists. Whatever we build next, let it be honest. Let it be simple. Let it begin where we actually are rather than where we once wished we were.