an equal and opposite reaction

emerging from the equinox, the shadows of my room no longer soothe, I am dappled and sunkissed, I elope with the rays, strain to capture it in my ribs. this is the perfect season. if I could take fairweather as a lover, i would surrender to the cool dark night. birthing a thousand discarded feathers, christening them duvet and doona and quilt. I ride the seasons as a tourist swims with wild dolphins; with fleeting touchs and minor elations. Click clacking images into an internal slideshow of long forgotten memories.