"Finest lace there is."

Today, when I came home from work,

I had the strong urge

to run through my neighbor's sprinklers.

Instead,

I made

the first smoothie of the year.

Even though I put in too much spinach,

it tasted like every gorgeous morning

of the past two summers.

I listened to my roommate talk,

and I considered how inherently interesting

people's lives are.

Then we went to a sandwich shop,

where I asked for a half order 

of garlic bread sticks,

and got an entire take-home box of manna.

We sat for ages

after we were done eating,

and told interesting things about ourselves

as children.

When we got home,

I decided I couldn't live another day

without rereading Dandelion Wine.

So I walked to my friends' house

to borrow it from them.

We had the most pleasant chat

and I considered how nice it is

to inherently like people.

I ended up on the wrong street

and got a glimpse of little naked two-year-old boy

as he was shutting his front door,

and that made me laugh.

When I got back,

I sat on my front porch reading,

but I felt like I could have been

in a nave or a temple.

No one would have been able to convince me

that his weaving of images over words

or of words into images

(I wasn't sure which)

was anything less than

worshiping the great Creator.

When I went to scripture study,

I could still felt pings of electricity

flying around my chest

like a bombardment of alpha particles.

Afterward,

I talked to someone

that I inherently enjoy being around.

And even now,

the sound of my roommate

picking up a leaf of paper

and putting it down again

is enough to almost bring

tears to my eyes.