Spinning days skip across the calendar beneath the humid summer wetted down by rain as the brisk hand of autumn approaches. Onward it catches the cold of winter, shivering under a weakened sun before blowing in to an awakened spring in step with the gentle showers ushering new buds to the sky. As the rain dries and the sun draws closer, the wet earth desperately perspires, drained and pitted unable to sustain the life it once grew. Drawn out like the minutes before a doctors appointment, stretched thin like patience of an overstimulated mother, the ongoing endlessness of eternity before the first sweat..
I struggled to get a start on this one. I was torn between talking about a revolution - like a social revolution or the revolution of the earth or of a toy like a dreidel. Once I decided to talk about the spinning earth it was then how to phrase it. It felt like an absolute mission to get this all down. I even thought I would finish the 10 minutes with only once sentence which is also okay haha. I'm glad I didn't though, there's a bit more to play with there because of it.