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.
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