Aroma Of August

Tops of the trees were burning white.  Sun light glittered and speckled through the leaves, leaving a canopy of perfect natural lighting.  It was clear, the air had the aroma of August, roasted slow, simmering, cooking in its own juices.  Then the wind whirled, everything became dizzy, everything became chaotic, flashes and awful noises.  This was followed by an indefinable moment of a pure peaceful, easy feeling.  Looked up, but could not see.  Listened for sounds, but nothing was heard.  Took a step, but the step didn't find dirt.  Even the aroma of August was gone, only the bitter taste of thirst was left.  Like dreaming, but fully awake.  Like really alive, but only in the mind.  Tools of the skeleton, hands, fingers, feet, legs, all pointless and useless.  Even a shrug was impossible.  Contentment.  This feeling of nothing went away quick, the weirdest thing.  In reality, nothing couldn't go away.  There is nowhere for nothing to go.  It was there all along, and is there always.