blather.

It is something in the pit of my stomach that has this happy buzz about it.
It makes me want to run, to leap, to splash.
So, I run, I leap, I splash.
My head tilted to the sky, the grey mass above me not doing anything to damper my mood.
I squeal as my toes hit the cold surface of the water, and shout with glee as the slight trickle of rain becomes incessant downpour.
Sometimes, I talk like a child, I think like a child, I act like a child.
Strange? No.
Because, usually it's under the influence of coffee.