Oliver Lincoln Blackwood

…… Precious moments often occur when least expected. They need no invitation, and appear on what in hindsight, one would suppose to be cosmic whim. Chiefly, these moments which engrave themselves unto our hearts are fleeting clippits that are tossed aside or overlooked altogether in the name attending to the rush of our little lives; and only ever vaguely recalled upon in moments of melancholy. Tis human nature to lament over what is not; rather than to rejoice for what is. Perhaps that, more than the many other of his innumerous quirks, was just the thing that set Oliver apart from the overflowing, ever growing population that made up the bulk of humanity… His perception.  -----             -- Forty miles away a large grandfather clock chimed out in haunting melody as the last second between eleven fifty nine and noon fell into order, and though the sun was hung high in the gray and misty sky, it’s rays were cold as they fell upon the frozen earth. The trees stood all around him, tall and proud; even as their leaves leapt away from their reaching limbs, all dressed in their autumn best – twirling, floating, dancing and falling in crimson and golden heaps. It was as if as their green had begun to fade; their last wish as they stretched so far to watch the clouds blanket the golden light above – was to mimic it’s fiery radiance; the way children play dress up in their parent’s best on a cheery Saturday’s eve. How beautiful they were; finer than flower petals upon the forest floor… And though they didn’t need anymore glamour… Though their marvel was far enough to surpass even the most demanding of miracles – wonders were drawn to wondrous things… Like diamonds as fine as silken strands, crystals of frost clustered upon them, lacing their surfaces with the glitter of ice as Jack Frost’s breath whispered sweet nothings that carried upon the wintry wind. Birds twittered and chirped a quiet lullaby that cradled the soul in soothing assurance somewhere far off in the distance, but all else had fallen into a sleepy hush, save for the gentle breath of the icen haired boy who stood between two of thousands of large oak trees.              Eyes with hues that resembled celestial nebulas watched with unabashed attention as gradually, a trembling leaf the color of molten lava broke free from it’s twig far above, and drifted down to hug against his shoulder. Lifting a pale hand, delicate fingertips traced against it’s chilled surface as a worn smile curved the line of his lips… He didn’t ponder the masses of people who drove by and around such natural splendors every day without so much as a wayward glance… He didn’t consider the countless fools who supposed the outdoors to be a bother rather than a blessing, and he didn’t waste even a second contemplating the sloths who had slept in that day, rather than experiencing such a world… But if he had, he would have thanked them for leaving such pristine places to the quiet of the birds. He wore a pair of tight black jeans, a simple white cotton shirt; covered over by a black pea coat, a single ring - that was placed on a very particular finger, and a pair of brown boots. Bright blue rimmed spectacles sat upon the bridge of his nose, and a leaf caressed his shoulder, until finally it was delicately tucked into the fold of his inner coat pocket. He was still for a long while, until suddenly he was not… Setting off at a leisurely pace, he wandered – all the while being sure to wonder at just how precious each moment was.                                      As a lone hawk’s feather drifted through the canopy, he paused his stride in favor of reaching out to gently break it’s fall with the upturned palm of his hand. With a patient smile painted upon his pale lips, he bowed his head and tenderly brushed a kiss against his captured prize, before carefully tucking it behind his ear. "I miss you." Barely a breath carried the whisper he left behind, as set off once more, and made his way home.