Late afternoon envelops stillness in patches of shade, and sunlight, and sky radiating moist heat, that leaves a sheen of salty wet on glistened skin. And as the river valley glows, the shimmering green surrounds a solitary heron
I would bring you beauty if I only knew how. I would slip into spirit, dissolve into autumn breeze which carries the scent of crimson sage to clouds of yellow butterflies in the afternoon light of their lives. As the press of obligation fades, the busy pings, the urgent beeps, and rumble of distant machines – I hover with a bumblebee in the spell of a purple aster. I drift in scented air on a lilting riff of mockingbird-song, the swerve of a skipper, a toddler’s giggle through the elusive realm where beauty infuses all being. I would bring you a portion but, reaching, it slips through re-embodied hands and recedes like time itself, its lingering afterglow reflected in clouds of evening gnats.