Transition Days

2024.07.25

Good morning that wonderful way.

Transition days. I called them transition days.

My whole life.

There's something in the air.

A little off.

A little buzz, like a fortunate bee is in the room.

Not the stinging type, but the buzz is loud.

Perhaps it's a butterfly of many colors.

Some new patterned wings never seen.

Something slightly off.

Like you bought new shoes, they make you a little taller, bounce your steps a little higher, make the walks necessary for a day easier.

You're walking on clouds, the white joyful ones, happy they're there, it's a hot sunshine day type.

They come in to douse the light for a bit so the trees can take a break from bringing the shade.

Trees and skyscrapers can rest easy for a few nebulous moments.

Some clouds are dark though.

Some transition days bring rains, mist or downpours, winds: breezes to gales.

But most Transition days are a slow haze.

Something is slightly off.

The old cliches.

Something is in the air, the winds of change.

The old sayings are true; there's wisdom in the adages.

Slow and steady wins the race, unless you're a cat on a hot tin roof then it's run, rabbit run.

Situational comedies or tragedies, the old storyboards won't do on a transition day.

The tropes exist to be changed.

There's plant food in the pots, the dynamics change for a bit.

Something new, from uncharted places flew into town while you slept.

Carried on the wings of the Butterfly Effect.

One rock tossed in the pond at the right place, at the right time, changes the whole world in unexpected ways.

Ripples reel in change.

Water in motion makes the sun come up tomorrow.

Life moves to grow.

Grow, grow and grow!

At times that requires a change of direction, a sidestep.

The clear path won't do; uncharted terrain is the best way.

So, something shows on any sized ripple from a rock you tossed to see how far it would skip across the surface before breaking the film, before making a new place in the water to make new shadows from the waves any falling thing causes in any pool, any dish, any cavern in the earth, brave enough to fill with water.

Every lake is a puddle that stayed.

Even lakes go for growth.

Evey raindrop ripples to erode the shore.

Every still surface shines to show the sky it's beautiful.

Heaven's vanity wants more of the firmament's reflection and rains down to expand the mirrors, to shine back its own light, to touchdown more of itself, to join in on this symphony called Life.

S.J. Wynn
+he Ghos+