The Book of Weather

The lagoons, this morning, were mirror glass, drenched with the pink of the dawn sky. The egrets were a white, implacable strike. The herons were steel blue. I was alone on the bike path, biking miles.

And after that, yes, to the sea. This sea. No shark in sight, not even a pelican. But there was a chill in the underskirt of the current, and the full moon was yet high in the sky.

I brought books to read, but I have never left the tomboy me behind. I'm still running, I'm still aching, I'm still and always reading weather.