June 5, 2007
Dandelion fluff drifts in the courtyard. Warm snow. The sunlight is deafening. Shouts tangle in the thick air. Itís hard to breathe. Confusion reigns. Clouds roll by: darkness, then light, a preview of dusk and dawn in thirty seconds. The sky purples. Slow bruise. A butterfly, blazing Halloween orange and black, begins its short life, slowly flexing its damp, wrinkled wings, preparing to fly for the first time. Escapes the earth. Vanishes. But I am earthbound, always; the heavy summer air clinging to me like a second skin. No wings to spread, no freedom to be had. Dullness, then darkness.