We run off, backs to the wind, the chasing of cottonwood wasps down the sidewalk, snatching them as they glide and swoop, destroying their autonomous course of flight, laughing while we do such.
We have one more week together. Though, we’re not together, these are the moments we will remember.
“What do you want to do?” she said with an uprise in her voice. Feeling the unsettling humidity of the car she wiped the sweat from the back of her neck and pulled her hair into a ponytail.
“Well, we could go the park”
I followed behind you through the woods. Inspecting the glistening canopy above us, sun speckling itself onto the ground laid out in front me. We exited the woods to find that where the park once was, was now a barren brown landscape.
A warm wind against our backs tossed soil and sediment about in the distance. Dirt dusted the entire sky of dazzling indigo. We could feel the wind begin to move from the brown plain outstretched in front of us to the green and orange aspen trees behind us, causing them to sway lightly. Their force then began to growing with each movement, growing more violent, gaining intensity the way an orchestra tuning up does. Then, suddenly, as if performing a concerto, the wind billowed a sound similar to a yelp. The resonance of this sound completely astounded us.
Her hair danced delicately behind her head, the gorgeous sun reflected itself out of the corner of her eye, I wondered if the feeling which consumed me was a product of the environment, or rather I imagined that the environment was acting in perfect accordance to this feeling of complete spiritual harmony.