singing in the rain on a sunny day

Sometimes the world just flows in rivers of sunlight and warmth around me, and if there is the slight frost of winter winding through those rivers, it is but a sweet foil to the bountiful warmth. Today I existed in a world of cascading wonder. Every color Distinct, sharply pressing against the boundries of the creatures that constrained them into solid shapes and immutable forms. I moved through an ocean of air quivering on edge of true autumn, no longer did it smell of the scorched burn of summer, but instead carried the first crisp hints of golden leaves and subtle smudge of chimmny smoke. The edges of my jacked tickled the skin of my fingers, which had long forgotten the feeling of long sleeves, making me laugh at the catterpillary sensations. The sound of my laughter danced briefly with the music pouring from my neighbors radio, where happy strains of Singing in the Rain lept from the window sill and swirled in the gilded air.