I woke up before sunrise, walked out the door and watched the dawn fluffify on the first day of summer.* For some inexplicable reason, I found myself humming “The Twelve Days of Christmas.” Now I find myself filled with the desire to re-write the song, substituting “summer” for “Christmas” and different gifts (not necessarily summer-related) into it.
Maybe later. For now, let us see what the longest day of the year has in store.
[*] Yes, “fluffify.” It was far too soft and arrival to “break.” Pastels seemed to spin and puff over the blackened peaks like cotton candy. I could imagine taking a small hunk of sky and letting it melt in my mouth. I wonder whether it would leave a hole of night or whether the depth of sky is enough that it would simply leave a dent?