Day Twenty Three
And I lay
down in the field of daisies and looked up at the sky and it was not lost on me
that the moment was magical. The clouds were scoops of whipped cream, but the
real stuff, not the kind that comes in a plastic carton, that is to say they
were a little sharp and jagged on the edges, not smooth and cloud-y like the
whipped cream that comes in a carton. And they moved fast. My favorite pace for
clouds to move across the sky. The air was a little cool but the sun was warm,
like cocoa in a cold metal thermos. I was in love. In love with the world. I
could not conjure up a thought of a better place on this earth at that moment.
A hawk flew across my viewfinder and bees buzzed in the daisies all around me. Trees
swayed and perfume wafted. Mother nature’s perfume. I turned my head to one
side and squinted, peering into the micro world of bugs under the flowers. And
I wondered. I wondered at the bigness of it all. The bigness of the smallness.
And I thought about that mysterious world at the bottom of the ocean that we
have only just begun to discover. And who can know the mysteries of these
insects, these bees, those clouds above me? And I closed my eyes and fell
asleep. Just for a moment. And in my mind was a dance, a royal ball of old,
with ladies and suitors and dresses and wigs. What a strange thing to dream in
this moment. And I stood up and brushed myself off and walked back to my car
and returned to work.
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