Imagining the Season

I stepped from the darting dogs and voices of their masters to stop beneath the gnarled fingers intertwining before me: I looked to them absorbing their dancing rhythms as they reached from their sturdy, but tilted trunks for the western light. A path of plush loam wove its way beneath them, and I felt myself […]

I stepped from the darting dogs and voices of their masters to stop beneath the gnarled fingers intertwining before me: I looked to them absorbing their dancing rhythms as they reached from their sturdy, but tilted trunks for the western light.

A path of plush loam wove its way beneath them, and I felt myself drifting over it while appreciating the petals fluttering around stamens stung from bees diligently collecting their daily minimums of sugar. A flurry of white enshrouds me as the green buds surrounding burgeoning globes expand, and unfurl. Their russet end rustles around crimson jewels hanging heavy as the final offering of the season.

My imagination burst into bloom when reaching to trace my gloved fingertips over the rigid and uneven flesh protecting resting energy.