outside

im just in a random grassy field where people walk their dogs.

its not interesting.

but the sun is beating down so the surface of my skin is hot to the touch.

and the shadow of one page blowing in the wind makes a ying yang of the words on the pages.

and the wind reminds you that everything is always moving. always changing.

and the trees make a wall between me and the other side. (whatever the other side may hold)

and the wind puts a chill down my legs, like its still winter. because it is. till the 21st.

but its all green. and its growing. and its alive. and youre alive.

and its beautiful.