Gray skies belie the mood of day after weeks of stead heat and fear of beating sunlight. The world grows calm again, less brutal, soften around the edges by a gray haze and sense of peace, and an almost steady drizzle I feel peck at my cheeks – each a cool kiss making all seem well with the world.
Nothing stirs the leaves here except when the weight of water proves too much a burden and then the leaf releases the gathered moisture, letting it fall to the next leaf and the next, until finally, reluctantly, and with a great sigh, this reaches the soft brown earth below.
My footsteps make no sound. So I move through this landscape like a spirit, a whisper where there is no wind, a movement through still trees, leaving no trace that I exist, no memory for the world to mark as having passed through it – and perhaps this is best, to remain this, unaffected and untainting, doing no more damage to this already damaged world than what has already been done, to watch and wait, to love without acknowledgement, to find peace in this simple passage, letting the cool drizzle work its remarkable magic and sooth wounds already done – a brief space so that when the new day dawns, I can begin again.