Deep blue sky reaching past the boundaries of sight, uniformly blue, blue in three dimensions; clear of sulphur yellow, of jet fuel brown, of traces and trails, marks of human restlessness.
Trees greening into Summer, pale Spring lace forgotten, left behind for shades of deepest verdure, marking their territory with shadows.
Wind softening to breeze, apology for home-and-hearth battering storms, trees shivering and shaking with the memory of last night's angry blows, whispering of roots tested and tried, of bending without breaking and next time, next time, maybe...
Wrapped in the moment stand I, head tilted slightly back, slightly sidewise, eyes slitted against the brightness of the blue, self welcoming the softness of the air's motion, breathing in the scent, soaking in the silence that is not silence but rather lack-of-human sounds that is defined as silence in this cellphone punctuated, bass-heavy-angry-music fouled, horn shattered modern life.
Without child stand I, a blessed moment alone, no one to answer to, to chastise, to love so noisily that it sends Nature scrambling back, away, except the insect kin who don't hear us as we hear ourselves and so continue on their intersecting spiral pathways, seeking or returning with food, defending, exploring, wondering why the sudden darkness or crush and smush, bewildered by the colorful lines of chalk that keep them from their way with designs to grand for their tiny selves to comprehend, so much like us in our effort to ravel the chaos beyond our ken.
Just that one little span of time, but timeless enough that it could have been hours, days, a span equal to the one note that sounded before everything went from nothing to all.
When we look, when we don't look, when we forget to look, life is replete with these small moments, grace notes to the busy, busy, busy...