Ripple

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image modified from a combination of two found at Pixabay

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.

© Mrs Fever – Temperature’s Rising

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