The Sound of Air

Shimmers

Heat is rising. Air is heavy. Lingering memories of winter have burnt away. Space is opening as our horizons widen. In anticipation and relaxation, I hear more the space around me each day. The dense heat pulls me in and drops me down into the infinite. I listen farther through water in the air, to laughter and cries from alien shores.

Birds are brought by unseen forces, surfing air pressure and navigating magnetic fields. As my mind roosts in the space surround, my body comes to ground. The lightness of being is born by air, the invisible made physical. I smell something brought in from the south, or is it that I feel it on my skin? Am I heavy or light? Or is it just the air, and its pressure brought to bear.

The heat waves the air into mirages – wiggling forms organized and interpreted by our norms. Temperature has twisted the tempo of my song. My internal tune, stuck at high noon, standing still on a single beat, a single note. I float here on a signal from long ago, recollecting a sound I used to know.

I breath in, moving my clock once more, and time takes me back. Minutes, hours, and days are their own haze. In this fusion of illusion, what cadence strikes true? What do we sing to ourselves, inviting the emergence of something new?