Ripen

PRICKLY © Chepatchet | Dreamstime.com

Prickly Pear cactus show plump round digits upon the edges of their flat splayed pads like the toes of an ancient Being unable to walk on the earth so making footprints across the sky, the ripening fruit reflecting the shades of the stairway to heaven.
Full red glow across the eastern horizon where clouds hover in the myriad shades of the dawn light awaiting their moment of illumination.
A jack rabbit bounds across the desert with his cute little white tail laughing in our faces--I smile, the dogs' ears prick forward. We keep walking, absorbing the morning as the winds change direction constantly, one minute cooling my cheeks, the next whipping strands of hair into my mouth.
Echoes of past and present merge as I feel a resonance with this space.
Not until I reach home and no longer feel the winds do I realize that the clouds had carried with them a moisture within which to use in the palette and then brush across the sky, painting a moist vision of loveliness that I am unable to recreate or describe adequately in these flowing thoughts that pour out of me so easily, running down the canvas of mind in rivulets of color and vibration that cause my skin to tingle and eyes to sparkle--I feel them shimmer, I don't need to see them in the mirror that only shows a blue iris and dark pupil and whites now free of the blur of sleep and the red of dryness. 
Summer is clearly crimson in its pulsations of heat, mirages in the distance, beads of moisture near my hair line when seasons meet--summer and hormones, cycles and the change. 
An environment reflecting my inner shift as we retain the blessed moisture as much as possible so not to dry up, wither, break apart, blow away.
My flesh swells and rings tighten on plump digits, like the cactus who survives by cherishing the nourishing waters when they come--the rivers then running deep within where they spread and fill crevices and provide a sweet cushion of nectar that then reveals itself in ripened fruit...full, plump, red and delicious yet with a hint of tartness that reflects the heat of wisdom and passion held gently within. The spark. 
All the elements align in perfect synchronicity as we merge.
She is reflected in me and I am a pale mirror of Her exquisite Grace.
Together we ripen.