It’s cold now. Well, colder than earlier. Everything feels different. The air, water, me. The sky looks a light shade of grey; its not as easy to tell what the moment suggests. Not as easy as before. But what was before really like? Did I really like it that much?
As memories of a time once in my palm slip past my fingers, I am again aware of the tic-toking beyond my own skin; The waterfall in the mini fish tank, the humming of the refrigerator, the fast car now in someone else’s range, the rustling wind making way, a door closed shut not too far away. Any other time would so strip these fleeting perceptions away, revealing confidence, igniting purpose, creating motion.
Today is quiet, still. I hear, I breathe, I feel. Yet it is neither the stillness in each breath and the safety of walls, nor the waves; the buzzing so short lived inviting me to simply be thrilled by the chase that fully explains what it is now.
Now. Not before. Not later. Now. As the air suspends the frost, the vault holds till the second the first flake ought to fall, and the ground gladly awaits it’s turn in splendor, I think on what I am now. A leaf in flight. Saw in spring, Felt in summer, Wept in autumn, awaiting cold arms to blanket and preserve what is. And perhaps I will see my beloved spring time again, not as the same young leaf, but even if just one more time.
But for now, I’m in flight.