Sundown in this weird winter. I stood in the town center and basked in the sun with other slack jawed locals and a chocolate lab waiting for his owner to emerge from the cacophony of Starbucks. I opened the windows in my attic bedroom. I think our bodies are a bit confused, circadian rhythms out of sync. The weather tells me to go on my inaugural spring hike, my purple mountain sneakers waiting by the door. An ancient mama voice tells me to slow it down, put my hat on, wear my warm coat.
Later, I am mesmerized by Google Earth, the current world rolling slowly by on my phone. It makes the world seem so small, but don't be fooled by global news and the interweb--it's still as vast as our understanding is tiny.
Somewhere, another earthy woman with a hint of a moustache is looking at the same sunset, feeling the same hint of things growing, noting the same confusion of time out of time. I blow her a kiss through the night air out into shared space.
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