arrepios ensolarados

there are mornings that follow from such deadly sleeps that this i awakens, having forgotten the past series of selves, as a universal friend of the senses localized by this body here, now: thoughts come and still without effort. the light from the sun feels like a caress, the breeze like eyelid kisses, petrichor pleases the nose and refreshes the lungs, a glorious morning for the i’s to behold. another inhale (death, hate, dark), another exhale (life, love, light): warrior-breathing.

i sit outside without a shirt, i feel the sun on my skin and i know the heat emanating from my body is convected to the air molecules immediately beyond it, all around me, engulfing me. i know too that the heat comes in the other direction, i am being enveloped or hugged by the infrared, from the sun we all share: inside i feel her warmth 150 million kilometers away, down my spine she goes, arrepios ensolarados tracing the topography of my back down to my bare, dirty feet: i am alive. these mornings i am friending all my senses: even the ambulance siren in the distance falls on friendly ears. so too the sound of cars moving on bumpy rigid roads, while birds quickly move on ever-shifting wind paths, chirping all over.

i sit on an auspicious spot, facing the majesty of the sun, with a wide view of the yard. with eyes open i hear carpenter bees loudly buzzing among early spring flowers, scanning dutifully; i see squirrels, these children of the oak, run on the lichened fence attracting the attention of my dog, who chases them now — close one Schifo, but up they go, leaping from the fence to the old oak tree. when clouds allow, sun light gilts the fresh green grass, revealing nests of insects dancing above, hidden again by clouds sweeping the light away. across the yard, at the street next to mine, i hear a door opened or perhaps a window and now human voices color the soundscape, here comes laughter and a car honk: life is abuzz and i am alive, watching a theater of light starring the shadows of the old oak tree and the passing clouds, immersed in a sensual sea — suddenly a thought Springs: the Earth is open again, al-Khidr has arrived to Green.