A Word Can Be A Bird
A word can be a bird. The bird is in the curves and flourishes of your handwriting, or in your hair which is full of wild romance. It’s full of new beginnings.
A word is precise as a question, and wide as its response. It takes sunshine for a walk into unfamiliar and unknown places. In the canopy of bark and branches are bridges, arching over streams. The air starts to bristle and paints the sky green, and the leaves start to whisper their stories.
Look at the tree as a butterfly looks at it from its gambols, or be the light that clothes it in the morning when the sun breaks its egg on the hillside. Fling your soul forward; go from leaf to leaf, country to country, sun to sun.
