sitting on a broken beach chair beneath the shade of the enormous maple in the front yard. it’s 4:42 p.m. and the sunshine is golden – a rich, shimmering golden that embraces you with every beam that touches your shoulder.
the sky is blue almost to a fault – the brilliance seems more like a computer screen than the dome of the earth. only occasional wisps of clouds convince me that i’m not caught in a saturated, summer-drunk dream. besides, it’s only april.
Easter seemed to touch the frostiness of Lent and burst into a glorious “Alleluia.” A preview of summer. The thought absorbs me until I lean too far back in my dilapidated seat and fall hard onto the roots of the friendly maple.
my eyes now see the leaves above, rustling and touching each other pleasantly, dimmed a little by their brilliant blue backdrop. The golden beams of sunlight rush in again, temporarily dazzling my sight.
i sit up and sigh at the heap of pre-calculus in a mess at my feet. why does the sunlight have to be so tantalizing when my conscience is pricking about neglected homework?
miss maple sends an assault of helicopter seeds in response. the leaves and birds and sky whispers, “look at today – she is so lovely – you’ll never have her again. you can only revel in the moment.”
i throw an old beach towel over all the sines, tangents and asymptotes looking judgily in black ink from their pile on the grass.
“Heard your voice, there’s no choice, tore the curtains down, windows open now, make a sound” – Not Today