place mats to the future

somehow tonight the breeze reminds me of porch swings.
there isn't an eerie squeak of rusted chains rubbing on rusted hooks - even though i like that.
the wind isn't strong enough to tossle my hair back and forth and back and forth again - but i like that, too.
maybe the temperature is somehow resonating a nostalgic tone within my little body - my nostrils are rimmed with cold and i gulp down spring air -
and my lungs remind me about that one time i ran so hard with barefeet in my dad's back yard...
((hide and seek, they all lump together))
i never wore shoes when the time was right -- and once spring time rippened my feet were filthy. but that was the back yard, centuries from the porch swing that hung next to a dogwood.
that now is back to ashes and molecules floating invisibly around my existence. it seems so long ago when unobtrusive cars passed while i watched - and wondered.
it seems i always watch and wonder... with dirty feet and a hopeful heart.

sweet air tonight - go on and remind me.