Shirley Tipsy

Butterly Effects

The wind is savage tonight. It squeezes itself through the thinnest of spaces, disguised as the distant delighted screams of children relishing in the warmth of a summer night, as they grasp on to that tiny bit of youth that will soon escape them forever when they grow an inkling more serious without even knowing it. 

I watch leaves dance beneath streetlights as they steal my mind to conjure images of a gold and bronze ballet, choreographing itself across the pavement. Each earthen dancer jumping and swaying as it loses fragments of itself in a scene of barbaric beauty that will soon render every one of these rusty ballerinas unrecognizable.

Weather like this reminds me of a time and place I have never been. Like cellular recall from a life lived centuries ago, I feel a distant ache for an emotion I have yet to experience, yet seem to miss with the entirety of my being.