Bears

Their little eyes beam from behind the gate, curious hunger and they've long since forgotten any prudent fear of humans. Like bandits with Disneyfied choreography, the raccoons make their way across the terrace: we try our best to shoo them away but give up eventually and cede the space. They play with the dog's toys, as she watches them curiously from behind the glass door. 

I spent the day in writing bliss, a whole span of day meant only for digging in, for revolving around a world I created out of nothing. What magic is this, this life, this summer, this dream of how to spend one's days. A lilting accent drifts across your ear drum but you are in no rush to sticky tape yourself to it. It is summer yet, there are words in your lungs and highways stretching out in every direction. Should you not stretch your limbs to catch their gifts first, should you not fill your baskets with summer harvests and see who might want to share in your riches? Let them come, I have plenty to share. 

Let life come. 

I have plenty yet to live.