Cuts the soul from the earth
and the earth says, “Go free, fly.”

But where to fly and do we land
There is the question in the sand

Glimpses of joy bubble up
only to burst and flicker

Where there is no one but you and me
The trees hold us gently in the breeze
Sadness goes to and fro
And the swing is empty don’t you know

The simple wonders of the fly
landing here and swatted flat.

— Wendy Who Walks With Wildflowers