It can be anything, really. Something small--a random observation. Something you may not've remembered until just now. Figure, the more detail, the better. ::shrugs:: I don't know. I like hearing about such things. Different perceptions and all--what's important to other people. And anyways, this is what I saw and wrote about and thought not too long ago:
I work third shift, so I'm often out and about really late at night, or fairly early in the morning--depending upon how you look at it. And the other day, I was heading home and took note that it was a perfect day, really. Not much over thirty degrees. Not much sun. A bit grey, and more than a little bleak. An Edgar Allan Poe day, I'd call it. And so on my way home, I looked at this field that I pass all the time.
And so I was looking at this field, and out of nowhere this group of birds shoot up in the air. And there's about a dozen of them. And so it's black and black and black splattered against the backdrop of this grey sky. And it was just so beautiful and perfect and all. It was like a live painting, all things considered. I mean the ink and canvas was right there. And so I squinted and pretended the birds were ravens. And it reminded me of a poem I once wrote. And it made me think that magic was everywhere.
And anyways, I get a bang out of stuff like that happening. Sort of like a bit of nature just winked at you, or something.