this is it

This is it.

This is all there is.

The smell of sun cream on your skin.

The soft silky sheen of grass, gently rippling in swathes of dusty green.

The green aliveness of pinched tomato shoots on your fingers, when you’ve almost forgotten the hurried moments you spent doing this.

People dancing in the park, forgetting the action, carried away mid game.

People in hats, shoes kicked off on the grass.

This is it.

This is me, complete, away from need of anything.

Smiles between strangers, warm behind sunglasses, behind masks, reaching out.

The irresistible urge to share some words, and the sheepish feeling of making them about the weather.

The exhilarating goofy delight to make each other laugh

Smudgy wisps of white clouds, shape shifting, surrendering before my eager eyes.

Cupping your face to look at you before the pleasure of kissing soft lips.

The unexpected fluffy buffness of baby bluetits, inquisitive, twitching then gone.

Not being sure if you have caught the sun,

Imperceptible slowing as an everyday parting approaches.

The trip of vertigo looking up into trees swaying overhead against the bright, bright blue of full summer sky.

The empty rumble of insides on the way to dinner.

The air filled with birdsong, joyous, busy, free.

Children, upside down.

Children, dishevelled and disarrayed, bursting into after school.

Little face stuffed into a pillow, trying not to wriggle when tickled.

The moment when you smile, uncertain behind your thick glasses.

Sea swimming, tumbled on the rip, coming out on top.

This is it.

This is me, fully absorbed in the moment, nothing to wish or want for.

This is all I need. 

Tiny soaring silhouettes across the blue.

What more?