Feeling My World

The soft gentle breeze caresses my skin, tiny ripples washing over me, as cool invisible fingers tickle each tiny hair. I shiver. The path beneath my feet is hard, the narrow veins between the stone uneven but smooth. Leaning down, my fingers explore each stone admiring the artisan's hand. Even cuts and natural imperfections line the face of the pavers from which imaginary flowers and birds and faces, that only I can see, spring to life. Each piece carefully selected for size and shape, puzzled together with perfect precision. The coolness of the stone feels blue like frozen water, or perhaps green like smooth moss. The air colder now I move on, hollow vibrations tingling my hand with each tap of my cane. 09/01/15