The Whirling Dervish

I had cut the grass earlier in the morning. It was sunset, now. I stood in the open field, the smell of grass and fertile earth…the smell of summer…filling my nose.

I stood alone in the center of that field, a boy around eight or nine years old; just a scrawny-tall little kid in a tee shirt, shorts and sneakers. Just a small boy with head thrust backwards, staring at the twilight stars.

I don’t remember a specific thought. Perhaps I was standing there, staring and thinking. Maybe I was. Maybe I wasn't. I simply can’t remember. What I remember is that I stretched my arms out wide and began to spin. I remember spinning counter-clockwise. All the while, my head is flung back, eyes peering at the emerging constellations. I spun and I spun until my head was spinning faster than my feet…and I keeled over in a swoon. I was happy. More than that, really. I was ecstatic.

I had come to play...and the Cosmos appeared…to play with me.

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