Miss

As I dance in the brim of the moonlit clouds, a whisper comes upon me with a shadow so crisp, a barn owl perched beside me. “Come away with me,” says the owl. “Spring dance with me like never before.”

I ponder this meeting like it has occurred. The nature of the whisper, and the timing of the encounter. In the welling of my tears, I speak. “Miss, why are you asking this now?”

She states, “I have always asked, you are only hearing me for the first time, my dear.” Only for me to scream, “why have I not heard this before? In my dreams nor in my waking life?”

She looks down onto the floor and reassures me that I have grown out of this valley. I owe no debts. With a look to her strong and expectant talons on a tight grasp of that brim, I am certain. I am able.

The chapter has begun with willingness and uncertainty. I scan the mountains for a chance to help my leap. The attention to the East has caught my eye, but I could never forgive my foolishness. I keep to the West where the clouds stay fit with a shine of comfort for traveling in the night.

The air is inviting of pine, where the dew-covered needles fall on your fingertips, as if they were not quite frozen. When I lay on my back to feel the treetops tickle my spine, my eyes are weighted. A picture of a simple snowflake impressing my mind. Swimming. Alone in my thoughts of happiness, misery, and disarray. The motions in my arms begin to tingle with senses of altitude. A light dusting of moisture upon my face as I am forced to open my eyes once again and take direction from the clouds. Aroma of the one and only salted air allow me to forcefully taste the accomplishment in believing in my leap.

They are leading me to a recurring experience and above all else, a feeling of promise of change. These are not so familiar clouds, ones that are charismatic without effort. Without knowing, remain cautious of respectful intentions of hopes and dreams.

This is new and too good for me. I can feel you again East, you are no longer a part of me. Secure on the belly of a rooted stump, Miss has greeted me with a situation to admire.

“Where are you now?” Asked Miss.

I am in silence once again taken aback by her human qualities. She was mesmerizing. Not in terms of the night as her eyes gleamed a new moon.

I stand firm and grit my teeth to the sky, “I am not a stranger to myself. I am in a new realm of possibility. I will look into the phase of the moon and make a choice on where I am now. I will be present, no more pretending.”

Miss looks at me with content, “No more shadows, my dear.”

I left with an inviting scar from the treetops themselves and rewarded with traces of found characteristics secured tightly to my hip. I am no longer in need of this energy to fight fatigue. As I watch Miss part ways with this journey, her eyes locked into mine with a wealth of spring warmth that fills me to my core. My eyes are somber as if in mourning. My breath quickened as if in love. The anxious tightening around the blades of my shoulders and into my neck sparks an exhale. For I am of clean hands removing this cling to resentment of past emotional tolls.

With love, Goodbye East