The day is too nice to sit inside and read about the sages of old. I venture out, past my wife and kids as they conduct a home school session on the sun-bleached deck. They are talking about vowels, those symbols explaining the hidden spaces in-between the consonants we know to be true. I think about this as I descend the deck steps. Warm blades of grass slip between my toes.

How do you explain space with sound, what isn't there with what we see?

I put that thought on the shelf, because I came outside to not think, and walk around the house. There is a space at the end of the house that creates an "L" where no one can see me and I can barely hear them. A patch of scorched earth marks the spot where I set a fire just a few weeks before. Fresh grass pierces the black crust and reaches high.

"You cannot destroy life," it says. Grass has a lot of pride for something so small.

I sit on the grass beside the scorched earth and look at nothing in particular, until a particular bumble bee catches my eye.

She's still on the leaf at the moment until another bee—her sister—buzzes by.

"What are you doing?" asks the buzzing bee.

The leaf slips and the other bee is now hanging upside down. She tenderly cleans one of her front legs. "Chillin'," she says.

Her sister hovers for a moment, very disappointed, and buzzes off.

This is what I imagine them to say. These are the vowels in-between.

The bee looks back at me as it puts its leg down.

"Sup," I say.

She climbs to the top of the leaf and flies away.

The bush is now still. I start to think again—not about vowels, because I just did that and the bee flew away—but about consciousness. I wonder why we wonder why. What is the purpose of awareness outside of our immediacy? What changed, what evolutionary purpose/need was served that helped Man cross that space between instinct and wonder? What exactly do we need to be aware of? My mind drifted. I was coming up with vowels to finish these words. I walked outside to venture away from the sages only to become like one.

An ant bit my ass. I dug into my pants and dug out the ant. Her mangled crimson carcass lay crushed on my fingertip.

"Forgive me, ant." I know she meant well. She was probably a Buddhist monk in a past life. Instinct must have driven her to pull me out of daydreaming and remain in the moment. I lay her body in the grass, her spirit free to ascend and receive whatever merit her karma has earned her.

Thank you, for another vowel.

Leaves rustle in the bush. A lizard—a green anole—bobs his head and flares a red flag of skin along his throat.

"I mean you no harm, brother," I say.

Another lizard is nearby and watching us. Was he warning me, or petitioning her? She notices me and dashes into the center of the bush. The male looks back at me. I understand and lower my head.

"Sorry my friend. I didn't mean—"

He jumps into the tall grass. Poor fella, he won't get laid today. I think about that. Was he really mad at me? Was he aware of anger, malice…will he remember me and create stories and traditions and rituals for his children to follow in order to commemorate--

"Daddy!"

I stop thinking. My thoughts, my deep ponderings throw on the brakes and my vowels crash into a million, indiscernible pieces. My kids are just around the corner and they've found something interesting. I better take a look, and according to the look in my wife's eyes, maybe take out the trash as well. One can never be too sure.