Bird on a Wire

Posted by on Jul 28, 2010 in Angst, anger, anarchy | 0 comments

One foot out the door, the smell of summer pleaded with me to linger. Seductive and enticing, it pulled at the high heel of my summer sandals, imploring me to abandon the trappings of adult responsibilities and step barefoot into the damp grass. I pushed myself onward against the invisible force of early morning mist, remembering when time held it’s breath for me. I think of long sticky August days spent watching ants, exploring the fields and forest of Kentucky with no clock but the sun, running free with my father’s hounds. Time was a boundless fortune I could not dream of exhausting.

My hands are full with gym bag, lunch, and responsibilities. I must deny myself even a minute to stop and examine a single leaf. My manicured finger touches the door handle of my car and the magic of technology takes me off on its pricy magic carpet. The news of the day comes from the radio and the sweet earthy fragrance of summer is washed away by my own soap and vanilla scent. Outside my office the warm aroma of high summer seems distant and diluted. Once inside the door it is altogether gone, replaced by the anonymous sterile odor of papers and keyboards. As I open my computer, the day’s chores nibble tiny bites from my soul. For one more day I will be faithful, loyal, and responsible, even knowing that nothing I can purchase with the gold I earn can buy me a minute of the freedom I yearn for this morning.

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