Hover Here Awhile

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published

The end, I think, will be like waking up to a late Spring day. Joints will crackle, and extra moments will be spent savoring the warm bed. I want to believe there will be arms, both big and small, wrapped around my waist, lips pressing the tousled hair atop their heads. Perhaps, if we are lucky, in that orange glow of morning the hummingbird will stop to drink from the rose bushes and we will marvel at this fleeting miracle, wings rapid in the sky. The flutter will give way to the things that must be done–backpacks and water bottles, sneakers found, science facts imparted to all the listening ears, a tender doll tucked in for the day away–all the while our hearts will still beat like the quiver of a ruby throat, a suspension of grace in a garden blooming with color.