one summer day, just by chance, as we paused to see the seagulls swirling in a sky ridden by angel-hair clouds, we happened upon a rainbow; a wispy, cloud bow made by the sun and sprinkles of moisture being whisked through the high air.
if after you saw that wonder, would it surprise you that on a cold winter’s night, with this world’s edges highlighted in silver, full moon brilliance, that on that still night on the rim of the field
—which for four months of the year danced aglow with vibrant colored wildflowers that on a warm summer night cradled your body gently with perfumes and velvety petals as you counted the constellations and felt the moths brush against the hairs on your arms and glide over your brow—
that ice-encrusted field beckoned you to walk to its middle, the ice crackling with your footfalls, then begged you to stand still and listen to the low hum?
with your senses attuned and your hair standing on end, would it surprise you to discover…