Friday, June 20, 2008

The tipping point

Day by day, another ray of sunshine, another warm breeze, until the scale sunk like a body in warm sand. Summer achieved. Each day forward, another deepened shadow, another whisper of frost, until the scale falls like a foot through thin ice. Winter beckons.

Six months held in your hands like sand, slipping between the spaces where you palms and fingers find each other. Slipping, because sand and time can't be held in anyone's hands. Faster and faster until the year is gone.

Wait. Six months is more than enough time. Time for anything you like. You want. You need. No sand fills your palms now, only water—clear and pure and you can see endless possibilities rippling in its surface.

Running to the future is ill-advised; one must walk slowly so life doesn't spill.

Happy Solstice. (And Happy Birthday, Rachel.)


Rachel said...

Happy Solstice, Chandra and good imaging!

C. Leigh Purtill said...

Happy birthday Rachel? Well, happy birthday, Rachel!!

Rachel Vincent said...

Thanks! Sorry I'm late. I've been buried...