The Beauty

While we eat or drink, sleep or think, we are all the same thing. We are bursting into leaves, or song, rising as daffodils, anemones, drilling into trees, foraging for insects or slugs. We alight, nest, rear our young, build our bowers, burn, drown are buried and explode. We are the returning grass and the hills that surround us, as well the moon, stars, constellations and planets. We are space and we are earth. It’s the story of growing toward the light, that lone branch, or having feet, feathers, fins, fur, scales or antennae that I long to hear.

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