I stole a picture from someone because it struck a chord in me. In a minute, I wrote down what flowed out of me:

She sat on the pole fence, swinging her legs, laughing.

I watched her, trying to resist taking a picture. I sensed that the moment was fragmentary and fleeting. Her green dress amplified the natural color of the overcast beauty around her. Because my eyes were attuned to notice, I looked at her with wonder.

She said, “Hey, watch!” And she hopped from the fence and ran to jump into the air, vainly attempting to reach the highlighted branches just beyond her reach.

She twirled around to see if I’d been watching.

I had, of course. How could I not?

She twirled around twice more, her hair billowing out and away from her shoulders.

“Come here and dance with me under this magical tree,” she yelled.

The day was perfect. That moment. That place. And her.

2 thoughts on “Her”

  1. This story would make a good song!

    See her flying through the air
    Verdant dress, and flowing hair
    Twirling ‘neath a magical tree
    Reaching out: “Come dance with me?”

    Liked by 1 person

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