A Dream for Today (Prose)

Walking down a chipped path; it’s at a decline and you feel your feet move in your shoes and your shoes move on the wetness.

You don’t hear or feel rain, only the constant relocation of water beads on branches and leaves and needles above falling to the ground.

It’s the green that stands out. The wintery, vibrant, husky, alive green that pops from the gray and earthy tones that surround.

The sleeves of your rain slick swishes contentedly at your side as you walk and slip and thrive along your path. It’s early yet; no one about.

Winter’s crispness whispers to you in this temperate day. But summer’s aliveness is here too.



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