Pieces of Moonbeams

CXIV: ambling afternoons

afternoon nature strolls. sitting with the hugeee tree roots peeking from the pebbles gazing me. eating my favorite chocolate cookies with salty snacks. staring at the green view. with mushes of teeny-tiny grasses laid by rain. with not a single thing—in this detail, i could complain.

dogs barking from the terrace of houses i don't know. cows munching on the grass. (yumyumyum.) the leaves swinging gently with the wind. my ears listening to the sound of the air strumming melodies. the murmurings of insects looking for the light. birds writing letters on the skies i couldn't name. isn't it A, B, C, or D? or is it nothing but their wings drawing subtle lines in the air? (please, tell me.)

the cozy atmosphere concealed—the dusk descending while the sun goes down. the rain waiting quietly. (please, rain, refrain your rage, rain.) the skies painted in pale blue—i wonder when darkness comes, what shade will be the hue?

so this is what-they-called it: '𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲'. ughhh. this intensity bursting through serene & short moments like this. :}

the landscape imitates even a centenarian painting. i wonder--how old does this looks like after 100 years? after clocks are tired drifting from past to present? after humans begin travelling from a cavern of a cell to a castle of memories? (well, inside of a micro-chip memory card, of course.)

no burning beams taking snapshots of my pupils. no darkness coming out when i switch off my eyelids—just nightfall ascending as i blink. every
movement of the wind instills calmness on my being. every greeneries brimmed easiness at the edges of my peripheral.

each movement i set into motion flows back to where i had set it from the start. no body was finished. no body had seen the light until the end. (well, except for people looking faraway at telescopes at rooftops.) ;>

every scenery was vivid. well, except for i couldn't see when the sun will befall in the dusk—holding its fading light languidly. every image my eyes reflected was clear. it's as if this world is transparent--but still, my heart's partly translucent—i want you to inspect to decipher the camouflage i've been hiding. to wear these raincoats only made autumn. (does it rain, in here, yet?) (isn't it always the coat, not the dried leaves to get?)

every speck of view screams gentleness. seems like sitting here means getting cradled by the soft hands of the kind wind giving me air. of the earth twisting itself giving heaven the chance to see me sitting here. thank you.

i love being in here, soundless. every time i love this state, it screams: "i love you, too, for living." every detail shown was perfect. (well, maybe except for dogs chasing me after this.)

August 01, 2023
von frederick, ambling afternoons