The pine stands tall, as does the house, bathing me in shadow. Blueberry bushes fan crimson leaves in the breeze. Bronze needles have flung themselves as one over the grass. Green and bronze kiss, embrace, quiet. A long body of love.
But this is what pierces my soul. The breath of wings floating upward, a tiny moth. Captured the light on its wings just right. And I was here to see it. A barely-there grace, a whisper, new drifting from Your hand.