Marvel
It’s a warm spring day, the first one in months.
You’re so excited that you throw on your skimpiest cloths and run outside as fast as you can.
The sun hits your eyes and your stunned as you stumble off the porch.
You right yourself on the bottom step. When you’re steady you hold a hand over your eyes. You lean back and squint at the sun.
The sun is out, and it washes you with heat.
You’re sitting under a tree. You look through your knees at a bright sky. There’s a huge pale yellow swatch where the grey usually is. The darker grey is a pale blue.
There are wisps of clouds lingering about, but they are giving into the shop-owner’s demand to vacate the premises. Little by little the clouds breakup and fade away.
The tree’s rustling leaves cast an ever changing dance over you. You feel formless shadows take shape. As soon as they come into being they become aware of the other shadows. Excited that they are not alone they swarm around. They mingle. They get to know the other. And as soon as they do they dissipate back into each other.
It is hot and you are reclining in the shade.
You run fingers through the ground, and it is warm. Fingers brush through the scrub and dirt. You dig up small roots. The are wet, your fingers are muddied. You feel rough pebbles and you press them under your finger tips.