Perfect Imperfection

For me

You are a perfect early summer day

Sky the steel blue of a morpho butterfly wing

Clouds so puffy they might have been stolen from the edge of a mirror in one of those ceramic Christmas village displays

The wind whispering just loud enough

The sun still only investigating around the edges 

The flowers knowing no trepidation or shyness or discrimination

At all and

All of it

Moving

Flowing

Touching

You aren't a postcard 

Or even a BBC documentary narrated by David Attenborough

You are the real thing

With

Ants

Ticks

Dirt 

Disease and 

Birds and

Deforestation

All there

Under that blue sky and

Those white clouds

Just like 

Me