The wind today makes me wish for wings. It roars around me like a lion playing, powerful and fierce and warm and so alive. The land is cloaked in haze, the sky in fragile cloud that doesn’t hide the sun so much as spread it thin, coating the world in a silver-gold softness. Distance is muted, all edges softened, and the wind smells warm and wild and sweet.
I wish for wings, but in my heart I’m already flying.