Lovers' tiff this morning.
Kind of spoils everything, colours the day gray, makes life that much less enjoyable. But you know, if love was not such a great thing, I would not, and most would not swear by it.
The day, the morning is really beautiful.
The blazing heat of dry season is a thing of the past. Something in memory, yet it was just a couple of days ago. Now, it is the brittle brightness of the rainy season, a hint of rain, water in the air. Something hard to define in actual words. But let me see if I can try.
Sun rises to the east, hard, bright. The rays hit the leaves green, are reflected into the pure, dustless air. Diffused, scattered under the leaves, and the heat is brought under control. On the skin it is not too hot. But pleasantly warm, a gentle, baking kind of heat, a tickle that invites one to sunbathe.
But it is not long lasting. Soon, clouds in the sky shade the sun. And the air gets a tang of cool that seems to sink to the bone, if you are shirtless, tempted by the heat before. But it is not an unpleasant cool. Not at all.
The wind stirs the leaves, and they dance, touching skin too, with their reminder of rain to come. The promise of water in the air cannot be ignored. Cool, calm, lovely weather. Rain not far away, just round the corner, over the horizon, above the wispy cloud cover. It is there. Possibly an afternoon storm, or an evening cloudburst. All good, all cool, all bright.
Gosh, now I know why I write.
I look out at the valley, the world around me. I see the clear air, the leaves and trees in the distance, the houses, roofs of khaki, red and greens hidden in leaves, and I feel the itch. To take this thing and put it in words. To figure out a way of making it live, spring up and dance on the sheet of paper. The pen is too slow, on the sheet. But not so the fingers on the keyboard. They dance, have a rhythm of their own, and the words flow onto the page. And I feel the relief of my mind un-focusing from my troubles. And focusing on something else. The beauty of my world around me.
It is beautiful. My world. Very beautiful.
Let me share a poem that I read this morning and laughed.
Riches, by DH Lawrence
When I wish I was rich, then I know I am ill.
Because, to tell the truth, I have enough as I am.
So when I catch myself thinking: Ah, if I was rich---!
I say to myself: Hello! I’m not well. My vitality is low.
Here is to hoping that your vitality is high! Have a lovely day today, tomorrow, and everyday.