remember when we’d find ourselves? so close to one another. sharing a blanket, a guitar, a book, a mimosa in a pint glass.
the Grass grew up on all sides of the blanket we rested upon it. the blanket too small for three people, yet three people we were, each taking up a little space, all taking up one another’s space. our boat on the high seas of transition.
or maybe it was a moat, protecting us from what would lie before us; from the Changes that lay ahead.
it was already warm in Early June. it had to be- after such a long strong winter. a winter that blew the fence down with the weight of its Snow- with the wait of it.
yes, there was something anticipatory about that endless midday. the Clouds were brilliant. and kind, too. kind to hide the papery skin of our bodies from the sun while lounging comfortably themselves, silver and luminescent.
we did not think of the brown leaves that had so recently scattered themselves over our grass, nor those that would soon enough do the same. we thought not of battles hard fought but lost, nor those to come. for how could there be others? certainly, there would not be others.
and yet, while the midday cooled, our mimosa had become warm under the endless weight of that first spring Sky. the last of us finished reading that Book.
do you think there exists a warmth like the first Warmth of springtime? it needs no battlecry. it needs no remembrance. it glistens even under clouds.
it is infinite for a few moments.
and safe.
written January 29, 2021
Kulani Sol 