Being Still

“But these are flowers that fly and all but sing…” — Robert Frost

I often catch the movement 

above me as I walk along 

the garden’s edge, and I know, 

if I am patient, one will alight 

near enough to see. I thought 

the cold winds from a few days 

past had called and lifted them 

on a current further south, but 

these little shadows danced 

around my head, so I stilled 

myself and waited, kneeling 

down under the nearest

branch.  She came, settled

on a purple bloom, and we 

enjoyed a little breeze, the nip 

of cool, the high sun, and the joy 

of being still.

—C.L. Fisher, September 2020

Unless otherwise indicated, all content, including writing and images, are the work of C.L. Fisher and may not be copied, used, or distributed without permission.

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