The warm sun dancing on my head, making my ears tingle as it nips at me.
Beating a rhythmic tempo.
The breeze softly sways a tangle of branches.
Sometimes the dance is slow.
Sometimes more frenetic.
Always lulling me into a dream.
There is no pattern.
It’s not meant to be.
Only soft, gentle movement.
It is the dance.
Roots knotted, rising from the ground…nurturing the new with food of the earth and celebrating stories never told in the trees that reach upward.
Weathered, torn, reborn, reshaped and reaching to embrace what the sky has to offer.
The blue, hopeful, unending and ever-changing sky.
Rocks as different as who walks upon them.
Unique and storied.
Together they build, protect, threaten, create, design, and enhance.
They can be held.
Smooth or jagged – small enough to find home in a pocket.
Heavy and large enough to threaten, to shelter, to take your breath away.
Their mighty beauty and power challenge you to ask – what if?
Hands reach out to examine and admire each.
What is their story?
How did they come to be?
© July 2020, Michelle Sherbun