Walking home,

the thick soles of her shoes make a heavy, hollow sound.

After the fact, a sliding crunch from a mix of dirt, pebbles, and who knows what else as her foot lifts back up and off the ground.

Another step.


Eyes lingering up,

she takes notice of the blue.

The light, fluffy, cotton candy-like blue

is innocent and unsuspecting,

naive and misunderstanding.

Staggering back, 

she rips her eyes away for fear of melting into the scape.


The sun

is not barren or unforgiving.

But is instead warm—the right kind of warm—

the kind of warm to fill your soul to a liquid gold-kind of full.


Lying down,

she chooses to disregard the crudeness of the concrete digging into her back.

Soon, she is able to appreciate the warmth of the asphalt.

Her eyes trace up the tree to her right.

First, the grooves of the trunk: all different in-depth but still drawn by a beautiful hand.

Second, the branches: they stand wildly pointed down different paths, yet all springing from the same base.

Third, the leaves: all different shades of green, they hint flickers of light through the eaten through holes.

She wonders who made them;

could it be a creature as small as an ant?

With its little black legs skittering up the wood, lightened in comparison, and settling on a bed of papery thin nature?

She didn’t know but decided to continue up the plant encased in its wooden armor. 

Taking a leap, her eyes jump from the knowable earth to the enigmatic sky.


Spotting a cloud,

she focuses on the blue in front of her.

She watches it move in from the peripherals of her vision to become the center of attention;

it enters the sky as an actor would a movie scene.

The white mass conducts her attention.


she lifts her arm up and brings her hand to a point with her second finger;

with which she will daintily trace the outline of the perpetual white against the stark blue.

Taking notice of the feathery bits breaking away,

she makes sure to paint those as well in her artificial outline.


Closing her eyes, 

she snaps a picture of the piece in her mind.

She decides to file it away,

forever in her memory, the stunning display will lie in wait in her mind.


Lying in wait

so she can pull it out and remember the beauty in the simple.