The swaying trees squeak like rusted porch swings in the cool April breeze, autumn-like but with a different scent— hints of honeysuckle and earth that’s started to turn in this warm and wet season. I hear an occasional motorboat, a plane overhead I can’t see other than its contrails, wispy and already almost gone. I hear a helicopter, an “on your left” with bike wheels whizzing by, still-dry trees rubbing threadbare branches. The forest is full of birds I can’t name— some songs and some sqwuaks, some aggressive feathered flight. I dodge millipedes and zooming insects, silty puddles from this morning’s rain. When a jogger passes me, I catch a snippet of his audio book: a sultry slow voice. What do you want to make happen in the next six months? How about “live more in the present”, “follow through”, “reduce my debilitating anxiety”? Is “more of this” an acceptable answer?
Opmerkingen