It’s 2:30. You’re caught up, mostly. Come on, go outside. It’s wacky warm out, for October. How many more days like this do you think you’re going to get?
There. Feel that breeze on your exposed skin? Won’t be long before you’re trying to remember what that’s like. Just look how fiery red the sumac is. And there—there’s a warbling vireo. What’s he still doing here, and why is he warbling?
Now, isn’t this better than sitting at your desk?
Stop under a quaking aspen. All the leaves are busy catching the wind. That sound, that whisper—you recognize it. Feel that breeze on your exposed skin? Won’t be long before you’re trying to remember what that’s like. Come on, come outside. Shimmer and shake.
Join the quotidian quiver in the quiet rush to winter.
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5 comments:
Quotidian. I love that word.
I'm a big fan of your quiddity.
"Join the quotidian quiver in the quiet rush to winter." Lovely, lyrical, luscious.
Yes, that "quotidien quiver" sent my flesh a-quivering.
I'm sleepy and have no impressive q-words to bust out over here... but I loved this entry. Much better than the standard "stop and smell the flowers." :)
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