Thursday, August 5, 2010

everywhere at once

Emily Dickinson couldn't have been more right: "To see the Summer Sky is Poetry." There's nothing like that beautiful blue...the zig-zag clouds and the golden sun, just starting to set. There's nothing like a breeze, the slight chill that hits the back of your neck and brushes against your bare feet...whilst the sun beats down on your face. Nothing like a frighteningly close nest of buzzing bees...and the unexpected pleasure brought on by their company. There's nothing like the noises of rustling branches behind you, rushing cars farther down in front, and a speeding plane overhead. There's nothing like shadows created by light from the setting sun...and the realization that its warmth will never actually leave: it's always here, within each one of us.

"I see you colorful; I see you in the trees.
I see you spiritful; you're in the breeze.
I see it in your hands; tree fingers draw a beam.
I see you in the sand; roll down the stream..."

As a flock of birds flap their wings against the summer sky, I am left with this message: our souls are meant to soar.

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