Perhaps a woman plays a stringed sunbeam with her bow, and the resulting music releases buds in the trees from their cocoon-like nests while causing grasses and flowers to spring from her cloak.
Or maybe like a soft, uncovered moon passing through the thickest branches of the evening, her hand rises slowly above all places to create the focus of the forest that encircles her. Reflected in a wheel of light inside water at the center of a pond, violet-tinged wings course across the face of her palette where a laden brush, in depositing paint on canvas, hardly registers a sound.
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