I want to look up at the trees. To hear them rumble to life with each wind that runs by.
To see green leaves scattered with the blue of the sky and lazily think about happy things.
Summer sun brushing in and out of view – and shade being equally playful under the vast canopy of green.
But it’s July.
I spend my days under the whitewash of fluorescent lights.They are efficient. They watch with a stern gaze to see that the clock marches forward. They are the same no matter what wonder is happening in the world.
They stare on. They remind the workers of their debts – the time they cannot be in the wonders of the world.
They march like ants into the whitewashed building, only to emerge, blinking, into the darkness. The sweet smell of the sun lingers, but the sun has all but disappeared.
It’s July! Run from the fluorescent lights and the sameness and efficiency.
Chase that summer sun brushing in and out of view – and shade being equally playful under a vast canopy of green.
See green leaves scattered with the blue of the sky and lazily think about happy things.
Hear them rumble to life with each wind that runs by.
Look up at the trees.