Unfinished

There is a strange phenomenon that takes place on the first true Spring evening of the year. The bright intense heat of the day has faded, but light remains in the air, though the hour grows later. Few wanderers are abroad at this time, most having been exhausted by the excited exuberance of the afternoon. Sounds and colors both seem muted, as though the air also rests from the day in languid immobility. The air is still pleasantly warm, a perfect climate for leisurely strolls out-of-doors, and yet this soul encounters few others on her journey. A small inclination of the head in friendly acknowledgement takes the place of casual greeting, none seeming willing to break the relaxed silence that has settled over the town. The vibrant and varied hues of sunset barely peep over the tops of tall buildings, and all else is shades of blue and grey.

This quiet calm, this easy comfortable evening passes slowly as I find my niche to pass the hours, a glass of wine on the table and pen in hand, poised for inspiration. And so we wait, as evening meanders quietly into twilight and smooth musical notes waltz around the perimeter of our awareness... This spring evening is one of solitude but not of loneliness. The quiet does not oppress or depress, it merely exists and drifts freely on a fluttering breeze that draws blossoms from the trees to spiral slowly to the earth in uneven circles. What a night to write! The pen in my hand seems to flow unbidden as the flower petals outside, words drifting to fall as they please across the page, unhindered by deadline or design.

As breezy evening passes into drowsy night, so do the words formulate in lazy circles across the page, being in no hurry to get to anywhere in particular. I take a break to have a bite to eat and the moment is lost, whisked away on that invisible breeze to unimaginable ends, where poetry waits to be found. I sit in profound silence, surrounded by the bustling business of socialization; the chatter of conversation, the clinking of glasses and plates, and the insistent persistent question in the eyes of my waitress... Um, check, please?