Simple.

Ah, the cold at last. Bites of chill with every step, breezes containing of absolutely no moisture. This is just lovely.
       The drive home is a perpetual dreamscape, lullabies sung in high pitches, harmonies in low tones. The wind wailing over the small dents in my vehicle. Small animals peering out of the forest, scampering off at the last moment.
       Easily a ten-point buck was on the side of the road staring at me on the drive home from work. I turned off the blaring music, as always. Slapped the stick into neutral with the quick footwork of the clutch and brake. We watched each other in curiosity for a few moments before he turned back to the fence-line and leaped over with such grace.
       Such simplicity. He knows everything he will need to. He knows hunger, thirst, when to sleep, when to move, when to procreate.
       I remember as a child, petting our family cat with quite the heavy hand. Wishing I could be a cat, lounging all day in the sunlight peeking through a window. Getting treated daily to the finest of ground up cow/pig/fish parts. Tearing through a house when bored. Getting the occasional high from catnip.
       Simplicity, it must be nice.
       But I would like to think I feel simple and whole when I'm driving. Listening to music loudly, singing or screaming. Running out of breath, getting light-headed. Tearing up from strain, throat bearing its veins. It feels so primal to let out everything in a loud torrent of sound. It feels simple. It feels like nothing matters but getting that complicated shit out in vocalizations. Losing it for that moment of time. Tearing down the highway, slowing down just so you can listen to more and get more out. Wait for that perfect lyric to describe how you feel. Hope you're loud enough to make some sense of things. Squinted eyes opening to find that you're still driving, cutting through the darkness of night, silence between songs are your moments of resolve. Hoping to have some revelation.
        It feels so simple.