I had just woke up from a nap of rain and thunderstorm, sleeping through torrents like a baby without needs. The earth is once again renewed while I disappear into another.
Tying my shoelaces, I walked out to the street near my home. The wind a pleasant chill on my skin, the birds and grass welcoming. The stones beneath my sole crunch, crunch, crunch and the sun shies away.
I am reminded of my daily jaunts when I was younger, where time does not tug, it merely watches on with wistful resignation. Every interval of my step is filled with imagination, I am here and someplace more beautiful. Unlike the sort of Sunday stroll burdened with tomorrow’s pile of unfinished work, early mornings, restless nights.
The sense of an ending precipitates often, but I hope to be silent in my final hours, with only the voice of love spilling on my pages before a deep, unperturbed sleep.