I AM QUIMBY

The dog and I danced in the basement. Too much dancing, I was feeling dizzy. 

I turned the music down and two steps at a time, took the stairs for the kitchen, intent on filling a glass for my thirst, but when I saw the breathless, I forgot about my thirst and ran wildly about the house to fetch my camera and its pieces. The breathless was spilling over the wooden floors from the front window that faced the west. I grabbed my brothers cap, my forest coat and threw myself out the door, forgetting shoes, racing across the snow to the tree, camera swinging around my neck, swinging my legs into its boughs and hoisting myself up. The neighbor working on his truck across the street had set down his box and watched. Perhaps stared. 

The sun from the treetop was a sea of gold.  Amen.