Branch into the Past

The branch by the side of the road, rises up like a venerated iguana charred in a bushfire.

My mind leaps backwards in time. Was that I sitting on the dinosaur’s back, galloping through the fields, wielding a weapon and calling my soldiers to battle?

Having walked by the piece of branch, I glance over my shoulder checking to see if I am the last one standing in the middle of the field.

Alas, only the bushes sigh, and a horse tied about 50 yards away neighs and swings its tail.

Thankful that there are no battlefields, I pump my arms and continue my morning walks.

No other phantoms trail my mind. Just the glorious sun, the riots colors of the bougainvilleas, and the day as bold and assured as a young man going to court the woman of her desire.

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