What I Saw

I have been noticing beauty in the things I see every day lately, and I want to remember to bring a camera with me next time, so I can show you. But in the meantime:

There's a perforated metal fence with the late-day sunlight poking through it. There's a bowl of yogurt with huge blackberries thrown on top, their juice trailing little streaks of purple here and there.

There's the mental image of a three-year-old boy whom a friend saw riding what had to be his first bicycle around the track at Kissena. There's the sweet smile on the face of another friend as I roll up in front of my bike shop (I got hugs).

There's white sand between toes (a few weeks ago, but I remember it).

There's gliding along, wind in the spokes, that purity of movement.

There's a pretty pretty salad I made.

There's a little girl-kitty asleep on the couch (shedding like a monster).

There are the beautiful faces of my tattooed girls at brunch, laughing about a mediocre date one of them had the other day. She told it so well, we almost became a retroactive Greek chorus.

There's the idea that fall is coming - the breath of it on the wind, a crisping up of air and a deeper-bluing of sky. I start thinking of apples, as I always do.