Dappled sunlight filtering through the outstretched branches of the tree above her. The grass her bed, the flowers her blanket, her daydreams her pillow and her happiness the stillness of the day drawing to a close.
Her song was contentment. Unwavering and true.
Quietly, quietly the leaves whispered and swirling clouds sang. A picture painted in the sky with long, soft strokes of an artist’s lingering touch.
Staring up at the endless expanse her solitude was magnified. Her insignificance a terrifying comfort. So small, yet worth more that the world itself. The Creator would die for her so that she could live forever... rampant musings dancing through her head as dusk descended. A twinge of pink, a blush of orange, a golden glow and mellowing blue...
The sun would the return to the curve of the spinning Earth, retreating to her slumber, only to return once again.
The light fades and night has come.
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