Perhaps as translucent trees gather the last of a lingering light, a discontinuity floods my eyes, and I wonder, what is it moving down my face? Single, glassy beads of sweat or tear drops?
Maybe feeling sad feels sad yet this little concern of mine, a mere shadow tracing the smooth, black lower framed edge of the kitchen drawer – skips across the counter and escapes the open door, coming to rest on a sweltering leaf sprinkled with hints of green, faithful servant sent to illuminate this resting place for dragonflies.
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Beautiful, Liz, how delicate. I love "faithful servant," and the gentle way this meditation moves.
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