Sun warmed face, grass felt toes, and crisp air nose.
‘It has been while since I’ve come outside.’
Clouds I taste, Fall’s a ghost, and Winter’s the host.
The Wasatch frosts north with nature’s true colors, ‘Paint this image on my heart!’ No pixeled device will suffice.
I am well placed. Spring nears as silence relevates my ears.
‘In another orbit, where will I be? What Spring will I see?’
I AM alive