Kingdom Flora

I have been blessed with my own office. Not a cubicle, not an entryway- an office, with a door and all my own space. The door is good because it keeps all the heat generated from my space heater in my own little space. The door also makes it easier for me to concentrate on work and allows me to play music without the fear of disturbing others. One thing my office does not have, however, is a window-- no, the one in my door leading to the hallway does not count, neither does any form of Microsoft.

Driving into work this morning, I fell in love with late spring. Sweet floral fragments wafted through my open car windows. Valiant knights of the Flora Court lined my blacktopped carpet, lifting or bowing their regal arms to herald my every rpm, their plumage ruffled and roused by last night's invigorating thunderstorm. Oh the storm! Streaks of brilliance lit the sky, bolting here and there in frenzied excitement, followed or preceded by bold claps of authoritative splendor interspersed with the gentle rhythm of the tumbling sky.

Last night I fell in love. This morning it happened all over again. My heart would burst with tears at the thought of it all: the pulse of the warm rain, the majesty of the Kingdom Flora, the sweeping kiss of the sun against my skin. And yet, I would cry no less to be torn from it, to sit in a cage free of bars, free of sunlight, free of any breeze of fresh air at all. Overhead the fluorescent lights mock me. The computer screen glows in mechanical triumph. My eyesight fades, my love grows dim. This is no world of life and growth. It is a chamber of cold, dank, out-dated technology.

I am blessed with my job and with my office, and yet, I have never felt more a dungeon prisoner than when I walked in this morning after my fatal tryst with the Kingdom Flora.