Soft whispering winds fly with reckless abandon.
Singing us back to nature still buzz humming a piece of all our offerings in labor and ecstasy.
No cave drowning out the burial of truth and illusion’s invisible sheath that echoes on a string through prisms of found glory.
Pressed up to it like a child’s first snow captured out the window; before terror of bodies dissolved dormant in the mind.
Life pulsating forcefully along a hot summers day; dodging traffic, weaving, hammock tied to the mighty maple trees.
the tender baby inside, gleeful
Surrendered to the ride of our life
Blown away by the breeze.