The Birds.
There is little pattern to their call.
But it rouses me, just the same.
The sun isn't even out yet.
The air is bitter cold.
I feel warm.
Must be my clothes.
I wish it wasn't though.
I wish I had enough control.
Control to be warm in cold.
The best I can do is banish shivers.
But that is just a mental block.
Quickly placed and broken.
Well.
Now is as good a time to try again as any.
The cotton of my shirt lays in my lap, now.
Soon, my legs will be warm.
But now?
For now I feel the bite in the air.
I feel my skin stiffening.
The vibrations are coming.
But no.
I can practically hear the stone falling into place.
The impulses crash against it.
It is almost overpowering.
I have enough faculty left though to at least try.
Warm...
The sun beats on my body. I hear the sound of waves crashing against sand.
Warm...
The heat bleeds into my body. The aroma of wood burning fills my senses.
Warm...
I feel my skin like fire. I hear my mother berate me for touching the stove.
Pink surrounds my vision.
I had become lost in my attempt to be stronger.
The light pierces my eyes.
Pain blossoms for a moment.
But I simply become still.
Let it pass.
There.
Color fills my eyes.
I am reminded of how strange this place is.
The circle of brown soil beneath me smells of grass, freshly wet.
And the flowers?
I see their purple radiance, but smell nothing.
I remember telling my mother that roses have no smell.
All she did was give me an odd look.
Enough thought.
Let the pattern begin.
My pack has been re-organized.
The food stored.
Water full.
Shoes tied tight.
My shirt?
Around my waist.
I may put it on later.
But for now?
It stays there.
Time to leave.
I am assaulted.
Not mentally or physically.
No. I smell the flowers.
All of them.
It's perfect.
I can't resist.
I need to take one.
Too small.
Too small.
Not big enough.
There.
On the edge of the field.
That is the one.
The blossom is as wide as my thumb.
Perfect.
It even fits perfectly.
Fits snugly in the front loop on my back pack strap.
Now I can smell this perfect aroma every time I pause in my step.
I know it won't last long.
But...
I feel that it isn't supposed to.
It will fade when it needs to fade.
Prolonging it doesn't seem right.
There is a wide path here.
On either side is a wide dark tree.
There isn't a knot on either of them.
I've never seen as old a growth with out a defect.
There is no answer here.
Time to walk.
I feel almost nothing but soil beneath my soles.
Nary a rock.
Nor root.
Neither seed.
But I see many leaves.
The ground is anything but silent upon the steps I bear.
Theory after theory unfold into my mind.
But no answer.
No conclusion.
Best not dwell.
Do what is familiar.
Walk.
Nothing of interest.
No animal trails.
Nothing.
Wait.
There.
Exposed in the sun.
Canvas spread to spill white upon green.
A mat of moss.
Soil like feathers.
And best of all?
No ants.
Perfect.
I can lay here a time.
I fall into dreamless sleep.
Silence greets me.
snap