Homebound

It was boiling on the District line today, and momentarily I wished for the newer cooled trains. The three wide single doors slid away and a hint of breeze brushed my face and realising, I smiled, for I'd written the exact opposite Thursday last week...

I was on train and homebound when I had a really curious sensation. It'd been a day, of labour and possibilities and unfurling choices.

We pull into a station, and as the doors open I feel that unexpected vying kiss from a warming sun, the little caress that takes me above and beyond crisp conditioning in the clinically chilled carriage to a mental someplace far away.

Sensing it I lean into the tempered warmth, and like an envelopment by nature it feels like a blanket I want to hold. With the light glancing on my face I think: this is all ours' sun, this is the same yellowing glow that everyone else sees and shares, from whose rays we derivce those hours awake of our very days.

We all share this regardless of circumstance, irrespective of genders and location and colour and creed - imbibing the life giving wamrth gloriously radiating outward into the vastness of our space.

And I wonder about all the other people who are staring at this same sun. I wonder about about what emotion it is that each of us watchers may have grasped so dear. This infinitessimately small moment we imbue with a meaning.

So I close my eyes eyes and keep my book tight and breath.

And I sigh a contented sigh into the heat.