Startle (11/25/16)
by Alyssa Robins When I was there the air was powdery, and everything was light gold and green. And in the deep teal the air was cool and damp. I stood just inside that window frame of cold and flies whipped around me. Whizzing Doplerized bullets: they take refuge from the sun here too. Bright blots in the sunlight, they disappear in the anonymity of the shade beyond its invisible razor edge. I stand in the cold and the latent happiness of this place gnaws my skin, and I wrinkle my nose in joy of it. Tip forward and cascade down the bank, toppling slow, legs pin-straight in front of me. Look a step ahead; avoid the green things at odds against the umber earth. And plunk into the stream, the sudden shock of cold osmosized into my shoes, a decision I didn't make until the bank made it for me. And slide over the slick, slime-soft tawny arcs, red and black; fight against the tight loosening of the cold. From the middle of the stream, a bright flat disco surface, water molecules are beaten up, up to flash again on their brilliant roof. And the mumble of the water was interrupted by its own distinctive Blort blort, which made us both laugh, my dear. |