Wind picked at my hair. Brushing at my skin, softly teasing me. My fingers absently played with the tall wheat like grass. I stood alone on the hill, I and God. Trees a bright green in the dusk. The sun hastened toward the horizon, darkness stole quickly across my sky and I looked up smelling rain. I wondered what was cooking, almost hearing the smell and seeing the taste inside my head. I spun. A slight thing in time, inconsequential against the might of creation. My body bowed to gravity and I fell, to soft acceptance, the grass a lush mat. I rolled over onto my stomach and lay my head upon my arms, closed my eyes and dreamt of sunflowers swaying in the wind, water lapping at my toes like a shy puppy. Soft peachy clouds adrift. Sweet baby smiles and caramel kisses. My lips moved, unbidden, forming a rush of sunrise across my face. I thought of charming old men and impetuous, rough little boys.
My thoughts refused to commit, like a butterfly lost in a garden paradise, they fluttered here, then there. Softly treading, not to wake me from my harmony. Peace held me gentle, love, a velvet of colour soaking in my realization.
I curved over, onto my back and filled my eyes with black silk, studded with precious suns and milky-ways. I spread my fingers, grasped at the little lights. My eyes closed again. I was in bliss. In a tiny world atop a hill behind my ordinary house. I was extra, I was more as magic wove about me.