Napowrimo 11

Running in the Texas Hill Country

I reached the top of the hill, breathless,

Feeling like a god who flies forever,

My legs the immortal trunks of oaks,

my heart a burning sun inside my chest.

Over my head hung cloud of slate,

About to burst into a gentle drizzle.

Down below, green is everywhere –

The wild rye in full bloom, rolling

With pastels against farmland,

The neat rows, the pasture

Where a herd of goats grazes

as if the world were standing still.

To my right, a tractor rusts, returning to the earth

In a field of sunlight between two cypresses.

As I begin my dissent, a field of bluebonnets

Come into view, so beautiful they take my breath.

How perfect to be here in this moment,

With the smell of rain on my skin,

The taste of sun on my lips,

The skydancer’s song in my ear,

And I realize how short this season is,

How life is far too short

To take everything in,

How one day I, too, will dry up

Like a blue bonnet in May.