(no subject)
I didn’t have time to write after my walk today, another eerily warm morning. The air smelled toasted when I first stepped outside. I walked quite quickly down to Greenwood pond, my tennis shoes squeaked an illusion of softly quaking ducks on the loose gravel path and I glanced around to find the actual ones huddled beneath the walkway. It was what most people would describe as a grey day, yet I found so much color in all that was cast in clouded shadow. The oak trees twisted black and green like still tornadoes ripping up out of the ground. The water of the pond set the pensive mood blending the dark blue from its depths with the bright grey of the sky. Several times as I headed back, I saw blue jays coast up and dart back into the trees, leaving behind them a trace of hot, sapphire blue against the cloud.