The deepening skies and cool blow of the new season continues to get at my heart, they know where I keep my softer side. Today was a sleepy one. Many of my family have been visited by brother grief and are feeling weak. They and I are given a small gift by the Lord of love: A bright rainbow and yellow cloud set at the end of day. I set out on the bicycle and am captured, not just by the color and the gentleness in the air, but by how relaxed my eyes were. I felt I belonged. I was at complete spiritual resonance with the earth. As I pedaled on, I found my little spot of paradise. I turned right towards the soccer fields of my youth and saw the fulness of the cloud set. It was an ocean of color. It was tremendous, truly a tenuous sea, its frothing crests lit up in pure yellow, growing more intense as it drifted out to the horizon. Towards the east, the sky held a warm peachy ambiance. I found my perfect spot, a patch of wild grass. I set down my orange bicycle (which was beginning to gleam the same color as some of the clouds above) and threw myself upon the earth. I held nothing back, and was softly received. It was almost too perfect. Burning yellow clouds danced in my eyes between stalks of seeding wild grass. A few others were around, feeding their souls, and I was enveloped in a purity that cannot bother itself with the ways of man. Life is too short just to look as you pass by. You must smother yourself in it, feel it, smell it, get itchy in it. If one don't come out bitten up and a little bruised, what was gained. . . if nothing was lost? I rushed to my aging mother to share this sunset with her. I called and I was touched when she said "its pink outside". Yes, as I left that field, the colors grew deep and imponderable, leaving the pines looming so wise and benevolent, gently teeming with amber feel. Last light.
