Electric morning

I carry it with me, a package of swirling light. Brimming in my chest and pouring out my fingertips, I bend the air around me to comply, to sympathize. The morning is electric, with water sopping my skin and kissing my lips, hair static and defying gravity under the umbrella. I am blessed with life, the air biting my nostrils and prickling my neck. These sensations grab me, allow me to focus and bring it in. The pin point moment of awareness riding fierce on a wave. I am standing still, absorbing and digesting the world around me. Each bristling body moving past, brushing wet shoulders in hurry. I smell the soil; hear the dainty notes as puddles form and my boots soak. Enough to wake me up and break me open slowly, the crack forming at my center. I am green roots and salty nutrients, every cell an island in the ocean of my body. I can feel the rivers of my blood, the pulsing nodes of current pushing me forward, allowing me to open my mouth and drink in the earth. There is no limit to the connection, to the union between my matter and the swelling rain blooms under my feet. In this moment, I am whole.