What a difference ninety degrees makes, and I’m not talking about temperature. Laying on my back, it’s blue sky instead of buildings, clouds instead of city, treetops instead of passing people. I don’t need to see the grass under my grateful back to luxuriate in its gentle, gracious, gliding green.
The cadence of the urban generator comes softly across the water into waiting ears, massaging with a sonority less exotic when standing. Closing eyes against the curious sun, I lie, under the radar, out of sight from how I see myself in the world.
Ninety degrees – call it respite, retreat, vacation, an evacuation, a blessed accomodation. Under a tree, shading slopy lawn, time dissolves back into the mysterious unknown, and I don’t mind at all.
© 2011 James K. Papp (Stanley Park, Vancouver, on Canada Day)
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