walks in the park.

there is something in the air,

the very something that urges unsuspecting,

tired,

crestfallen eyes to blink,

covering themselves with veiny eyelids.

there is a faint yellow glow that burns

bright red,

then crimson orange,

as the tired eyes shift,

accomodating falling-leaf-like hair tosses.

the warmth of the sun

encompasses the readjusting body,

unfurling strained fingers,

tempting their meeting with soft breeze,

caressing the calloused fingertips

smudged in ink stains of careful penmanship

and worried musings.

the ears become attuned to the rustle,

the hustle,

the bustle of twittering birds,

and breaking twigs,

and pleasant talk,

not pleasantries,

that pleasantly suprise new lovers

and comfort old friends.

the mind becomes a child yet again,

a smile becomes aware that yes,

so

many

good

things

are

happening.

for when the skies that ooze joy

make soulful welcomes,

outstretched palms of beneficence

open hearts to their gentle beneficiary.