Glorificus Tempestas

Walking home, the sun warming my face, cherry blossoms plucked from the tree, gently swirling on the breeze. These are the days, the moments to capture and cherish. Walking past gardens stretching out of their winter slumber, awash with colour. Spring green punctuated vividly.

Watching the bustling bee, fixated and engrossed. The cat, tail flicking idly, peerlessly survey her kingdom. The birds dashing here to the remains of puddles, flitting there to collect twigs and moss.

The cars whizz by and I revel in my solitude. There is only me, the sun and the world.

As I climb the hill the colours continue, reds, yellows, and purples, radiant under the blue. Above me the tendrils and wisps gather gently as if not wanting to spoil the moment, guilty of forming clouds.

I turn the corner, almost home. I realise my feet are burning, my legs hot and tight, my brow damp. Onwards I stride, breathing hard. Exalted and alive.