There’s an aroma of impatience permeating our home like a low hum interrupting feigned and unreachable sleep.
We’ve gone crazy bending our ears to every corner of the house in a vain search for the culprit source but still we go for the throat,
foregoing the formalities of politeness and skipping the rules of engagement to simply dive headlong into pettiness,
perhaps the last stages of preparation before a few decades of moulding and caressing a new life into our ideals.
The view from high expectations is enticing and dangerous, and with every inch closer to the edge comes a new scene
vibrant and unknown until the danger is just a breath away, its eyes gleaming hungrily at the lack of fear we harbor.
From that view we can see jungle cats and armadillos, myriad colors of emotion, and an uncertainty beckoning warmly.