Salt and Pepper

Cold air, the morning I walked out of the house. Maple trees in red and yellow, white church rooftop, red bricks. I run my usual four miles, the ground beneath my feet flying under my calves, the cold filling my lungs as I get into my rhythm. Birds rustling in the shrubs. How come your presence makes me ask what am I doing here anyway. I run to keep the pain at bay, to make me feel myself again. A morning flight. I love my muscles to carry me. Don't you return to where the wind is always warm? Whereas I will keep on running, deeply enjoying the cold ocean and the wind. It makes me feel tough and closer to the elements. You'd evade me anyhow if I wanted to show you any of this.

In a Spin

Violently in love with you. With sound. With colors, with the air, with water, with sound, with music, with the air, with water, with the ground beneath my feet.
I have an aura migraine, I can't see, I can't hold a line if trying to read; the lines are dancing my heart-throb. Boom bang bang. Spinning. I love you, I love the water on my skin, the air moving the little hair on my airm; I move from one room to the other and just take in and love back. In return. The air, the colors, the music, the sounds. The pain-killers don't work, so doctors say, accept the pain, invite him in. Well. You're welcome to stay. I love thee too, honey.

A Day at the Beach

While I sit and wait for our departure, a group gathering around some boats is slowly growing. There's family and friends, children running, some standing by and watching, their little fingers in their mouths, some of the men holding fishing rods, seagulls flying low. It's almost camp. Almost. The sun is slowly casting long shaddows in miniature sandpits; the air casts shaddows too, adding a settled calm to all, movements and sounds muffled. A thin line of stratospheric cool undercutting the warm afterglow of a whole day of sun on our skin.
When we will have returned to checking our watches (we still have to return to a schedule of filing official papers, vacuuming our home and tidying away the reminders of our daytrip, and then be in bed in time so that the priorities are clear), our isolation will be with us, in our bags, carried all the way back to our car. Are you already angry about the mass (yes, and mess, too) these bags will produce, the damp towels, the beach sand spilling throughout the house?
How wonderful, I think. For days I will have the sand beneath my feet. A little solace for having to abandon this view.

A Short Trip to the River

Love life's facets, like soft wrinkled skin under your eyes, the curve of your nose meeting forehead, smiling. The land, the sun, the water. This was a light feeling of being well-grounded with both feet, balanced and flooding, always rooted.
The head occupied with taking in and processing, the stomach with feeling secure.
A visit home.
Love the broad streets and friends, not getting enough of talking, children laughing. Like good bread and peace, water, juice, air.
You see, like after a good meal and enough sleep, you need some time to digest, and you feel your body energetic and your mind happy.