Winter cold and windy, the air was wild today, alive and sharp, piercing, breathtaking but beckoning. Stoking those primeval fires at our hearts and unleashing the wild thing. Making blood run warm and gold and quick, sparkling in the thin sunshine.
We went where the ground was carpeted in grass so emerald and so rare we didn't know whether to roll in it or to stash it away in our pockets as treasure. The wind whipped our hair across our faces and lifted skirts so they danced. We watched far off vistas and tried to answer the secrets of the misty mountains.
We entered enchanted forests and found fairies hiding in knotted vines, birds sang ethereal tunes that lilted in the windsong and magic was everywhere. We rambled through a hidden garden and climbed on ancient boulders. We chased sunbeams as they danced on the path in front of us. Cheeks blushed, eyes sparkled golden and jade, and dreams bubbled in our hearts.
Sometimes I feel that flash of beauty, that renders me mute, makes my blood run hot, catches my breath, that sears itself into my memory. Today was a neverending flash, silver blue fireworks for the soul.
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