A good day for persimmon dreams

How about that! It rains, and then the sun comes out, and the sky is the bluest blue.

“Bright!” one of my Shizuoka Duo friends exclaimed. We were all out in the neighborhood together, all three of us on bicycles.

It was a lovely October day. A good day for an outing.

“Wow! Lovely! Is it a couple? Mom and son? Best friends?” Shizuoka Duo wondered. (I don’t edit them, just report what they say. I like their spontaneous reactions—no matter the exact words. I don’t know why, but what they feel gets into me really fast.)

The light and the color had fallen in love. “I feel there are fairies flying among the flowers!” Shizuoka Duo sang.

On a day like this, you won’t be the only one out and about. Lots of folks know something good might happen on a day like this. “Music notes on a staff?”

You feel light-hearted, but at the same time, there’s a certain intensity, a natural sort of relaxed intensity (if there can be such a thing) in the way you see how the color and light are enjoying the day.

Not everyone will look in the same direction. No problem. The light is everywhere.

“What chord are they playing?” “What’s that instrument on the offbeat?”

“Looks like a gingko tree!”

Yeah, the pure joy of standing still, relaxed, your feet firmly on the ground (at times like this, it’s how you feel, even if you are on a tightrope), seeing the way the light and color sing and dance.

“I bet I’ll still be able to see it tomorrow!” Shizuoka said in a wondrous whisper.

It’s a good day to thrust out your chest, let it feel the warmth. If you know how to do the “bellybutton” (that dance number Shizuoka Duo sometimes sing), it seems like a pretty good time for it.

“Facing the truth!”

And yes, of course, it’s a good day for persimmon dreams.

But then again, every day is a good day for persimmon dreams.

“They’re going to be delicious!”


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