La...My Friend, Lost in Grief

Brisk winds push this afternoon through bright skies with all the playful chase and blow of minor gods. Narcissus admires the eye-matching blue sky while Hermes considers the aerodynamic lift and tug of a signature scarf.  Io, engaged in cloud-watching, lolls about, careless on tossed grasses as Laurel weaves garlands nearby.  How could they know?

The Graces dance.  Another deity, who's name I forgot, spins out blue skied days.  One for me, one for you.  Two more? Ten? Thousands?  Whatever their number I'll take them and be glad. How can I know?  How can you?