She dances home a flower fairy, sprigs of green and white in her hair. The green and white of the last wear of her summer uniform, but I am relieved; there is nothing uniform about her yet, her spirit wild as the garden beds after a summer of neglect. She is not lost to me.
Equinox
Equinox
Equinox
She dances home a flower fairy, sprigs of green and white in her hair. The green and white of the last wear of her summer uniform, but I am relieved; there is nothing uniform about her yet, her spirit wild as the garden beds after a summer of neglect. She is not lost to me.