It often feels like I discovered the lily pond just yesterday.
I’d been walking along the bike path and decided to detour off the pavement along one of the hiking trails between the trees. The air was cool, with just enough of a breeze to make me wish I’d stayed in the sun. It was so magical there. The sunlight dappled the ferns, moss and dirt.
How ironic I’d thought that. Or do I mean prophetic?
I have a hard time recalling words, trapped here in this ornamental globe at the center of a naiad’s realm.
I miss my life.