I have just been for a walk.
Up the hill, seeking to look out over the valley that I call home. Never realized that it is so beautiful, this valley. For a walk, or a run, or just plain lazing. You know, with absolutely nothing to do, but to look out and, like one of the many birds far, far in the skies, get lost in the circling of thought.
Yes, it was thought.
Thought about how beautiful my world is. The greens, and blacks, the loams and laterite reds of the soils. The deep blues of the skies, and the clouds that are ever racing over it. The magnitude of my sight, and its shortness. My world is beautiful.
I am not a bee, and will not cry how I cannot see it like a bee does.
Just plain old me, in plain old
Today has been a funny day to me.
Cannot decide whether I am ok or not. Just like the skies,
They are not prepared to let the sun shine unchallenged, with clouds racing over her face most of the time, yet not staying long enough to make a perfect cloud cover. White sheep on blue hills there, they have been racing at pace too fast for sedate sheep. Maybe more like frisky lambs.
Seems kids are back from school.
But it also means that some will always be hanging around outside, lazing, or, the word is chilling?
No, it will not distract from the beauty of the day, nor my enjoyment of it.