[Page 1-2]

Summer had gone far.

Not everything could go with it.

 

Harbor stood
where water moved.

Not rushing—
always arriving.

 

[Page 3–4]

The river carried.

Near sounds passed.
Far sounds stayed briefly.

Nothing asked to be kept.

 

[Page 5–6]

Harbor had grown wide.

Her branches stretched low.
Their weight rested everywhere.

It had been a lot to hold.

 

[Page 7–8]

Heat lingered.

Light stayed long.

Some things no longer fit
the way they had.

 

[Page 9–10]

The river moved on.

Harbor watched it go
without reaching.

 

[Page 11–12]

Pieces loosened.

Not all at once.

Not everything.

 

[Page 13–14]

Bark lifted in places.

Her red fruit let go.

Small things found the water
and were carried away.

A silver fish slipped past.

 

[Page 15–16]

THE TURNING QUIET

The Longest Day arrived.

Not halfway—
full.

 

[Page 17–18]

Sounds softened
without disappearing.

The breeze slowed
just enough.

One leaf turned.

 

[Page 19–20]

Harbor felt the year ease.

Not empty.

Just lighter.

 

Pages 21–22

Then—

inside her bark—

something closed.

 

[Page 23–24]

A ring took its place.

It held heat that had passed.
Growth that had finished.
What no longer needed holding.

Her year fit—

easy.

 

[Page 25–26]

Harbor did not feel proud.

She did not feel done.

Ready.

 

[Page 27–28]

She stood
with less—

and did not fall.

 

[Page 29–30]

The river kept moving.

Summer stayed warm.

 

[Pages 31–32]

Harbor remained.

Open-handed.