Petal Puddle

What a sensual day it was starting by coming downstairs to find the petals puddled from the bouquet on the desk.

A dead bird on the walk to the post was a reminder of the fragility of life, but the moment passed as a sleek horse clip clopped by. The sound of his hooves against the pavement was too pedestrian belying his sleek glimmering chocolate coat and his arrogrant strut.

The lake shimmered below. A red/orange flowering bush, lush hid the irises behind. They were such a translucent lilac, that the colour was almost imaginary.

Bird song accompanied me back to the house.

Waiting for the bus, the sun baked through my jeans thawing the last bit of winter cold from my bones. At the same time, a light breeze blowing through the irridescent leaves tickled my cheeks with all the force of an eyelash blinking against my skin.

Eating downtown the couscous was flavoured with cinanmon and the meat ball had a hint of mint.

Back to writing, two wasps played tag in my room. I suspect they had microphones and a rock band amplifier attached to their bodies as I shoved one out the window. The other committed suicide in my desk lamp.

When moment after moment fills the senses with sound, smell, colour, touch I know with every eon in my body what being alive means.