Hot red winds, it's time for loose clothing and cool refreshments.
We just barely hold on to form so that we can be free to create.
Form is just empty bones, all the muscle and tissue is haze on a midsummer day's horizon.
We borrow the utility of form and flow as we like, according to terrain.
It's too hot to care. So I sit, eyes half open dripping, waiting my turn.
Up there in the summer wind I'll redefine the movement.
That tiny sliver of form brought to life by fire and blood.
When it's time to rest, I'll take a cold drink and forget.
Welcome to summer.
(picture: "Summer Collection: Fields of Gold" created by Rosebud Warrior found at http://rosebud-warrior.deviantart.com/art/Summer-Collection-Fields-of-Gold-289561957)
