The feel of the smoldering, hot sun;
beating, beating down on my skin.
So warm that it turns my flesh a rosy-pink
that stings like an open-wound with salt poured into it.
In the distance there are cries of laughter
and the munchkin-like voice of a child.
I can’t decide if they add joy to this wondrous day
or simply ruin the peaceful, innocent beauty of it.
A view of once dead trees is now starting to erupt with color.
I hear two birds quarrelling in the branches.
And then the obnoxious beeping that just ruined my train of thought.