Sometimes the hills look like they’ve come closer to my balcony. Perhaps, they moved in the night when I was asleep.
I like to think that there was a mystical time when mountains flew and trees walked. But that would have before man was born. The magic locked itself in as Pandora opened her box. But, it still exists for those who know where to look. There are a few who guard these secrets as they tend gardens and care for creatures of the earth. The powers of the skies and seas are inconspicuously gathered by quiet souls as they live amongst teeming millions.
Back to the hills, they do look like they want to peek into my home. I imagine they’d come through the window and say hello after everyone has left the house. The trees on them will wave happy branches and ask what’s cooking for lunch. I’ll put aside my chores and chat with them about the sun, moon and the stars. We’ll wonder together about the march of time and the seasons it unveils. They share secret trails and paths where no one has gone and I promise to explore them on an early morning run. I tell them about my home and family, our dreams and hopes. We’ll share a meal, a communion. Before long, the day will end and they’ll retreat as dusk drops into dark.
All this in a parallel dimension. Daydreaming is the word, I think…