contact

aiden looks east to where the wildflowers bloom up on sandoval mountain, where the music of wind on rock fills the sky with some transparent sound. aiden looks east with hammer held mid-swing and listens. he takes a breath, slowly. a gap arises in the day- cracks in the matter have parted their lips, giving way to space. substance moves aside for a second to allow the wind to sing. then, it is not an emptiness parting something, but a moment parted not at all from the bird calls or the shifting tree shadows or the sound of vehicles down at the end of the driveway. aiden breathes out, slowly, and looks east to where wildflowers bloom- where the rocks and wind make contact.