Steeped in Magic

Walking up the steeply winding slope, I pull away from the city’s warm embrace and into another world. The magical sounds of gentle morning rainfall fill the air while yellow wildflowers and tumble weed riot happily in the foreground. A mystical fog blankets the ocean and smoothes the rooftops far below with misty fingers. Buildings loom up at random like a David Lynch daydream.

I walk beside dreams of iron and steel on the hill. Time stumbles and I slip through worlds, summoned by the rippling waters of Manhattan’s Central Park’s Reservoir. I gaze across the blue serene and salute the steel skyline of towering giants which stalks my memory still.

The scent of roses pulls me back and I stand alone at the top of the hill. The monster below stirs and stretches but for now he’s out of sight. Safe in the sky’s embrace I fade into space for an instant and emerge into the brightness of my day.