Aura’s Field
Aura, our Goddess of the wind, of summer softness, hovering above the meadow, saw me driving toward her field. After I went around a curve in the road, I witnessed her blowing the sweet air that kissed the tall grasses upon a knoll that were moving in cadence to her breath, swaying ever so gracefully like the willowy bows of a thousand violins together.
If nobody else saw her, at least I did. I saw her lithesome body suspended above the ground, floating in the still air that became aroused by her commanding breath. She was in a sea of beauty and elegance. Her tender feet never touched the ground. Her tantalizing smiles ran through my skin and touched my loins.
I pulled over, got out of the car, and ran towards her. She laughed at me and took off toward the mountains, through the valleys, the brooks, then back again and swirled around me. When I reached out to touch her, she moved away like all elusive playful spirits do. She commanded the grasses to sway but stayed away and roamed through her own private kingdom in the sky. She was a heroine of mercy to the still summer’s air, but yet an untouchable to human hands. She was a beauty in love with herself, too bombastic to mingle with me, a commoner who reached out to her.
She was a sight for my sore eyes on that lazy summer’s day. She appeared before me and no one else. I was the solo witness of her tantalizing beauty as she moved the grasses upon the knoll. I felt her moving through my skin but not in touch with my fingers. She was a dream that became a reality that became a dream again. She was Aura, Goddess of the wind.
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