The longest day of the year is coming, and I feel it in every cell. Whatever part of me fears foolishness has gone to sleep for the season, while the rest of me isn't sleeping much at all. Hours slip past in a steady, unnoticed fluid current while vivid, crystalline moments of the present devour me whole.
I am here, rolling around in the dirt, firelight in my fur, clawing and biting and making sounds that would embarrass someone who doesn't know they’re an animal.
I am here, closing my eyes and pressing my ear to a warm wooden body, feeling my own hollow center reverberate with its song, inhaling rosin and dust and sweat in the summer heat.
I am here, the fresh sting of nettles on my bare skin, slipping into a cold pool of darkness, dilated pupils drinking in the contrast of pale skin versus night sky, the glow of fireflies in the blackened silhouettes of trees.
I am here, the little light at my center holding together all my self-ness, allowing the rest of me to dissolve and become weightless in these eyes, in these arms, in this song, in this laughter, in this breath.
