It’s a flutter. Heavy, weighted with unexpectedness, turning deep circles behind my navel.
Awareness turns damp.
A swell.
A ripple.
Memories of lips soft and the urgency of once… before… back then… floods forward to now.
Fingertips to the first knuckle coax muscles learning to un-taut.
Circling.
The weighted somersault flips inside, landing skim-skip against long-still waters.
And the undulations roll unsplashing through the spectrum of light now illuminating the depths.