Coming home that day, I was tired
From the drudgery,
But the sun still shone
Unaware that cloud cover is more appropriate for a rant
And it warmed the parched grass so pleasantly that it scooped a little edge off,
Just enough to imperceptibly soften
And so I said yes.
And we flew frivolously
Frenetically
As the fields kissed our periphery
Music washed tinnily over us as the wind pushed scattered notes over our giggling heads
I yelled out the words when I could discern the key through the rush
And as I turned my head to let them fall behind us
I glimpsed the earth as a vast, dark and fuzzy orb,
An ink blot in the dying afternoon,
The edges of the trees congealing into intricate shoots of blackest pitch,
And through the cracks the sun’s reluctance to hand off the day shot flames of orange and red
Touches of pink
And suddenly a great roiling wave, almost a tongue, thick and muscular
Unfurled itself from the depths
And I was undone
You didn’t see
Those minutes I was crippled by joy,
By those rare, precious, present moments saturated by not just Enough
But
Perfect.
Fat tears raced to catch up to the words tumbling down the road
As our fingers interlaced
Dancing together as the gearbox screamed