Fast Down the Hill, Impossibly Free

I went on a very satisfying bike ride here in Salt Lake with my Uncle's old beat-up bike. I took a right out of the neighborhood and didn't stop until the road ended miles down, near a Catholic school/church with an austere yet inviting field.

I had parked the bike on a tree and took a seat beneath a bare, peeling tree, encompassed by a multitude of kneecap-high bushes, allowing me to elude everyone around and forget about the world for just a few minutes.

I laid down almost directly under the tree, had some ganja and just stood both passive and pacified as the lonesome sky, burdened with a few maladious dark clouds, seemed to fall from its place in the heavens and envelop me in a tranquil sea of cotton.

A few Magpies had found their place atop some feeble limbs directly above me; my presence unbeknown to them. I had no choice but to watch as their white-plumed bodies danced and swayed from limb to limb, allowing me just a glimpse into their innocent and unabashed splendor.
It was an almost spiritual experience.


What a beautiful song nature does sing.