• Breeze gently caresses a celedon field,
    The hand of a vast lover, reaching down from the sky's throne.
    A life imagined to a space between atmospheric entities,
    great titans of beauty, and inspiring ideals.

    When the light coats the thin wisps of tall grass,
    bobbing and weaving through gaps in mammoth gathering of moisture
    painted white and soft by the illusion of an optic nerve,
    poorly translating the language of being to the fragile mind,

    It leaves blankets in waves of warmth on the backs of arthropods,
    further down, glistening on the toothed edges of the narrow blades they consume.
    Life blossoms within and throughout.

    A flower escapes the desperate confinement, one last desperate bid at the safety of youth. A reluctance to age held nervous and fast by the unbroken bud. It is a futile battle, a fear overcome by the emergence of beauty held in petals that wish to feel the cool breeze on their tender flesh.

    Wind whistles and coos in openings between life and matter, dancing with the earth's surface. It is an endless waltz ending only in the calmness of its perception, the peace brought and existent within the still image of an encapsulated moment.