Short of normal, and she defined that loosely because it depended on the way the sun was setting or how the trees bowed poignantly. And yet, when at all possible, she became one with the sanctuary of tender and nature. To the left were songbirds and to the right was the sound of light through filter trees. Wind became the waves in solidarity’s sea and ancestors were the voices of sprightly springs. The stillness brought her deep intimacy. She slipped past sharp and harsh and settled humbly in the chartreuse of budding flora. In this cyclical daydream, it helped to navigate typical normalcy; for just a few, pressure was lifted, and her wings took flight and she flew.
April 18, 2016 © Carolyn Riker