I spend much of my time wondering. I wonder what time it is. I wonder what the weather will be like tomorrow. I wonder if someone is thinking of me. I wonder if it will rain later. I wonder if the sun will shine. More often than not, because it is winter, and it is England, it is probably going to rain. But sometimes, the sun shines.
When it does, it is like the sky is smiling. Like all the people I think about are thinking about me at once, and they’re thinking good things. It is like the circle of the earth has opened onto a slice of heaven, and let it in.
Sun sprinkles still damp pavements with glitter, quick-silvering them so that grey becomes luminescent. Guttered puddles glimmer with the promise of oceans. Spires dream into uncut blue; a wide cloth stretched over the reaching basin of sky.
A brief moment of beauty.
Warmth spreading into winter-stilled limbs, face upturned to catch it, eyes shut on a street corner, arms outstretched, palm upwards, I stand like I am praying. How much time do I have left to stand like this?
People stream around me either side, and I am a rock in their flow to be circumnavigated.
“Look up!” I think at them. “The earth is golden. You are golden. Everyone’s golden!”
But no one has noticed.
I spy a cloud in the western corner of the sky, creeping in.
It will rain again soon. I wonder when.