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Drifting

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The sun glistens off the
surface of a pond.
The gentle, caressing breeze
rustles the green leaves of the trees, and
sweet scents of
wildflowers waft through the air.

The sounds of crickets and cicadas
float among the whispering trees as she
saunters along the shoreline,
soothing mind and body.
She gazes at the pearly white sky,
soft as cotton balls.

The crack of twigs reaches her
listening ears and the sudden
roar of thunder shatters the calm.
Icy droplets pelt her face as she
runs along the winding forest trail.
Sounds of insects are absent from the
now violent forest, with
trees whipping and lashing out.
But ahead,
through the nightmare,
is a glimpse of sapphire-blue sky.

She breaks through the dense thicket of
snagging underbrush
into a peaceful meadow,
still glistening after the storm.
Under her feet, grass dances as if it were
trying to lull her to sleep.
The serene atmosphere is accented by
smells of rotting leaves and fresh air.
She lays back on the cool, damp grass,
drifting among the clouds…





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