A crisp breeze blows down the street, rustling the leaves and swinging me in my hammock. A hummingbird buzzes close to me and asks what I am thinking about for a brief moment before becoming distracted and buzzing off to the next Douglas Fir.
It takes me back to Cape Cod, as the oceans turn frigid but light up in a green bio-luminescence upon jumping in on for a midnight swim.
It takes me back to the banks of the Potomac River, as those yellowing leaves fell into the water and swiftly circumnavigated the stern of my kayak.
It takes me back to the Dalton highway, Alaska, in late August - to a mother moose grazing on the side of the road with her calf. She paid not a care in the world to me as I rode my bicycle past.
It takes me back to crisp days riding through the pastures and meadows of Rhode Island, getting ready for cyclocross season.
All these places feel like home to me. The years have come and gone like the monsoons on the rim, and I have moved around and meandered. But today... well today is special. It is the first day of the rest of my life, a boy of 23. And what do I want to do? No idea.
So come play with me,
beneath these clear Autumn skies,
in these fields of wildflowers,
on these Mesa's above the little world.
We'll examine the small green spiders,
barely noticeable on our fingertips.
Run your hands through my hair,
feel it grow long with the passing seasons.
We'll watch the stars by night and wonder,
universes orbiting our heads.