Swimming
We like to go for bike rides when the sun is sinking and everything swims in light. There are wheels under us, but aside from the ends of sidewalks--bump down, bump up--we could be floating along a quick river. Maybe we are.
"Name the colors that we pass: Go!"
Golden red, golden green, golden yellow, golden gold, a coppery blue.
In August, after a summer of good rain, everything seems to blend together in a gnarly mash of arms and leaves and branches and legs. It's all touching, straining after another finger, another wrist. We ride by and see ten-thousand embraces.
We are all a little bit desperate this time of year. We still have weeks of heat. But nothing is endless. Not even the sun.
"everything seems to blend together in a gnarly mash of arms and leaves and branches and legs. It's all touching, straining after another finger, another wrist. We ride by and see ten-thousand embraces." Wonderful image, I really like the notion of embracing. And whispering after the sun goes down under the stars, one of the most romantic pieces of writing I have ever read.
ReplyDeleteAs always Thank You.
Thank YOU. It's a pretty special time of year, August. A lot of holding on.
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