The Shape of An S

There was a moment tonight, a long one, standing at the edge of the park watching the sky turn from blue to gold to pink to purple where I felt the challenges of my day melt away with the ease of the shifting pale white clouds above. Not far to the south a single cloud, snake-like and winding back on itself in the shape of a lazy S, drifted just above the foothills, its edges blurring slowly, almost imperceptibly, fraying until it fell apart. Duncan, tired and wet around the ears from wrestling with Kona in The Glen, seemed content to sit by my side, his body resting only a little against my leg. He did not move, did not make a noise, but sat quietly and patiently, the gold light painting his face a deep shade of red which diminished with each passing second. I could have dropped the leash and he would not have wandered away. I took deep breaths of lake and grass-scented air and watched that single s-shaped cloud slide into oblivion, claimed by the coolness of impending night, troubled no more by the heat or winds of the day.

God willing I will uncurl and float away tonight, Winnie at my hip, Duncan stretched out at my feet, Ken's arms around me, work a far, far away place, the voices of the students and faculty finally silent, dreams like stories running through my head.