the backyard as a desktop

you won't understand unless you were right here. in this minute. the air's still and lukewarm, no wind stirred, and the skies are just lush yet matte with pink-lined gray clouds slowly breaking apart in the dusk. dusk of the first in September.

love.

this is a wonderful feeling, not because it's perfect weather, the string of lights are going to be lit soon, nor that i sip a hot cup of green tea from the mug Liza bought me for my 14th birthday, nor that i wear my new favorite sweater--

it's that i'm letting loose.

this pen + this deep sincere (and silent) feeling is the key to productive writing right now. words, ink, passionate ideas spill out and roll along the paper like nothing.

OH MY GOODNESS.

spent minutes dowsed in chills all over me. a double rainbow, against the neon-pink clouds, graces my presence.

sometimes we all disappear, and into places that just seem so right for your genius. you're lost in the visions and muses that dance around in forms of double rainbows, twilight, golden clouds, and the damp ground beneath you. or maybe not these things. but right now, it's what i need. just happened this way, too perfect of anything to be a coincidence, where i wanted to sit out in the backyard under lights like fireflies and write.

And when i am back in my room again, the night dark and my carpet warm with whatever song that plays softly in there, i'll still be dreaming of this past.