She has walked into the middle of a dance. Leaves pirouette, tumble, twirl, glide… …in silent jubilation to the ground where they shimmy… a tap dance, a chorus line… …a marvel. An invitation.
“Peek-a-boo!” As Emma’s peal of laughter filled the sun-dappled air, her parents, Tracy and Eric, turned from the picnic table towards the sound of their daughter’s voice. Tracy gasped. Their daughter stood before an ancient, sun-kissed tree, slowly covering and uncovering her eyes playing the age-old game with— “What is that?” Eric asked, his voice
During her walk that afternoon, she came upon her next surprise. A face. Staring up at her from the asphalt. A mask of varied color, with one eye coyly closed, the other staring boldly at her, and green lips curved in a cupid’s bow smile. “Hello,” she said to the leaf, before the wind carried
When he was still young and green, he liked to say, “I’m separate from you.” Her reply never varied. “That’s how it should be.” Even so, he suspected there was something beneath her quiet, calm patience, a secret that belied her answer. He thought it might have to do with the echoes of her he
Red-tipped points collide with circles within an illusion of stars creating timeless patterns that collapse to a center just in time to make you forever lost.
She wonders when there will be time again to court her Muse. To take her for long, solitary walks, and plunge with her deeply into dreams, where they dove together without caution, through tempests of color, desires, emotions, only to merge back into the world, no longer ordinary, having been touched by the sublime, having
Today she walked towards the sound of gently rolling water, away from the noise of cars, and into a paradise of chirping birds, and tall grass growing green, to purple to gold.
“…nine, ten! Ready or not, here I come!” Janey laughed, and scanned the grove of trees for her friend. Emma covered her mouth to keep from laughing and crouched low to the ground behind the tree. She’d picked the tree because it wasn’t very cute—kind of like a slug with arms. She thought it might
Like gossamer dream catchers, clouds lay down upon the sky where their filaments collect hope and desire as fragile as a wish.
Shell. A perfect still life presents itself.