Today it is 79 degrees outside, and the trees have filled out with color, brushes dipped in bright green. The breeze wraps me in lilac sweetness with tinges of lake and upturned earth. The weather sends promises into my lungs. He says to me, “Rest in my steady arms, I promise to be good to you.”
But he is a fickle lover, and I know that today, like all days, is a moment.
And moments are to be enjoyed for what they are: slick flashes, lightning. A sharp, quick cry of joy, strengthened by the memory of its intensity. So I won’t linger here longer; I will allow the day to smother me into its intensity and freshness.