vixenmage | (no subject)

It's a bright, cold, sunny afternoon; the air is clear, and there's a note, distantly, of frost, and woodsmoke. It feels more like early winter than late, but that does not bother me, for that is my favorite of the seasons.

There's a flock of sparrows congregating in a bush, and the wind is brisk and lovely, and I am quite happy, and it is a lovely day.

More importantly than that, I will soon be borne by steel wings, westward to the Emerald City, she of mountains and glaciers and towers and bay-- but more important yet,

to the most beautiful pair of eyes I have known and the light behind them,

and today is a good day, but

tomorrow shall be better still.