Stillness

As a person of nature, it is imperative to go out and embrace it whenever possible.

When the day-to-day grind wears down and you fly to find yourself in a sunlit field.

When the large eludes, you instead find the small, the overlooked.



Giving up on the skies, you instead look to the ground.


The remains of a feast of dragonflies.

In a wide open field, you can feel yourself expand with it, and in that expansion, a constriction down into yourself, where all is quiet, still and at peace.

In that stillness, the mind can focus on minuscule water drops, beading on a wing left behind.



You have to turn over coreopsis leaves to see the nursery underneath.


A dragonfly trusts you just long enough to gaze into your eyes.


The path narrows and coneflowers brush your face.


For a minute, dipping into the woods for its cool shade rewards you with a treasure growing right at eye level.


And stepping back into the sun, a tiny moment is frozen and stretches forever.