wakeful

when blue begins to bleed into the black which was night, I have been up for over twenty four hours. my body is starting to surge with a new energy, despite the weights I feel hovering under my eyes. sleep has not come to me so easily these past days, and I wonder what the reason for that is. yet, despite the urgency to go to sleep and relax my body, another desire overcomes me. 

I swing my feet off the bed and quietly plant my feet on the floor. I shuffle over to my closet, gathering a warm sweater that I slip my arms into as I burrow my feet deep within my clogs. I ease down the stairs, moving from creak-free stair to creak-free stair with muscle memory indicating the many times my feet have followed this path in the fragments of the morning. 

I glide across the kitchen floor and sidled out the side door, closing the door without letting the lock catch. I pat my pocket to make sure I have the key and leave the porch letting myself succumb to the dawn.

after walking for some moments I enter the orchard. the spring buds are fresh and new, enticing me to pluck one off and tuck it behind my ear. soft and light are the petals, so innocent and clean of imperfection they are. they have blossomed, avoiding the touch of the hot afternoon rays, the harshness of winter or the shrivelled existence of those who have fallen from the trees in the years past. 

instead the apple blossom lives on behind my ear, until it browns at the corners and weakens, turning from a circle into an oval. at that point I will give it a proper burial at the point where two twigs intersect on the tree, so it can view the blossoms of its neighbours as it falls into the death of such beautiful things.