It's so easy it seems...

Goodbye goodbye the chimneys sigh in plumes of ashen grey. Walking beside the black iron fence, I trace my hands from one bar to the next, as miniature spires cast shadows on the atoning concrete. Precipitation collects in the crevices of leaves, heavy with the weight of water and made loose at the seams. Sometimes I think I can hear the trees grow. Then there is a moment when your shoulder touches mine. Did you ever notice the woods behind my house at night? In the warmer months, if you stand on the balcony you can see all the tiny sparks flickering. Winged bodies on parade. Celebrating pulsations, silently communicating. Beatbeatbeat. If you stand and watch long enough everything will blur, fall free and fade. Suddenly you are in the sky and gravity is on standby like it’s a choice we make, or some little thing like air to lungs and love to the strangers holding hands across the street. It’s so easy it seems.