A deep yellow glowing orb sits heavy on the forest floor - begging for someone to draw near, but resigned to the fact that no one can. It’s the same thing every time - the same longing, the same empty hope, the same defeat.
What does the sun do when it all feels like too much? When rising in the morning seems like a burden of epic proportion, the sun does not get to just drop down. That is not an option, but the sun can dream of it from time to time.
The same loneliness… but wait. Someone’s here!
About the Creator
Calista Marchand-Nazzaro
Always learning and always evolving. I’m a creative, an idea person, a thinker, a dreamer, and working on being a doer. Many interests. Varied content. Food. Sustainability. Comedy. Poetry. Music.
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A Pheasant for Your Thoughts
Mira made her first crepe paper flower when she was three and needed a distraction from the atrocities of life. Her aunt gave her, along with a pitying look, the seemingly sound advice to go find some healing in the beauty of the flowers. Mira headed toward the gardens, but stopped short in the doorway when she realized no flowers would be there after what happened. Before she turned away to go make her own crinkled version, she glimpsed a single pheasant standing in the barren plot.
By Calista Marchand-Nazzaro3 years ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
Terrific work
Really great. You evoke so much in so few words, inviting the reader to participate in the mystery. Thanks!