REMEMBRANCE OF THINGS IMPERFECT

It is the middle of a sunny summer day

I am running down the stairs

quickly and excitedly, with my neighbours following me.



We all want to see the Sun

It just fell down in the front yard

I saw it coming down like an overripe cantaloupe,

staining the sky with sticky, succulent golden juices.



There it is,

lying on the ground,

a giant orange, trampling the grass it landed on,

squirting its warm essence all over our bodies.



The neighbourhood dogs are running around, barking at this strange visitor.



I approach it warily. I touch it.

It is warm and beautiful,

glistening in the mid-noon light.



I remember well the feelings of amazement, incredulity,

inexplicable joy overwhelming me

and the comical expressions of confusion

on the faces

of my neighbours.