Stunned by rabid wolves and deafening howls that even the purple moon succumbs to a crescent. Frosted trees once enchanted by glistening flakes from heaven are now withering into wiry branches that cascade over opaline ground. The crunch of burning and bountiful leaves. Overgrown gardens of Eden and overcrowded closets to Narnia. Ripped t-shirt pockets and black hole hangers.
Gulls fly overhead, chirps that sing over Victorian rooftops and ride the wind to seaside docks. High tide waves and turtle migrations. Empty shells and eternal sands. How passionate they are, to make love to to the rocks and foam and fog. Creation in the name of God. I roam past the daffodils and the cooing fountains. Narcissus’ flowers. Narcissus’ reflection. Nostalgic and timeless, like bottle rockets and paper airplanes nesting on power lines.
The sun was shining bright beams this morning. Carried in the hands of a cobalt sky. Apollonian lanterns giving way to the death of night. I stepped into the shower and let the warmth envelop me. Under turquoise tiles, my toes crinkled and I felt my eyes close. And then it was happening all over again. The remembering.