I found this old ornate frame waiting patiently for a story to portray. After dusting it off and laying the inked pieces together, a nature guardian with wings for thoughts revealed herself. Sitting with her quietly for a while, these sentiments filtered through …
‘Sprung from the tree of life we grow,
anchored salt of the earth on the under toe.
Pollenated waves through the seeds we sow,
as rivers running free into the oceans flow.
We’re crying out phytoplankton . . . if only for a breath of fresh air,
through telescopic wings we see you everywhere.
Then back into the chrysalis we go,
to dream real the truth of what the elements know.’