Isis.
To nap in the dapple shade and dream in poetic muse was such sweetness in the summertime. A nap is my luxury. To feel the birdsong in my soul, to let my heart relax into a steady tempo, it feels so good.
Isis stretched in her hammock, arms wide over her head.
In this light that paints my skin so warmly, the trees are dancing ladies, each in dresses more fabulous than any designer can craft. They move, choreographed by the wind, in perfect time with one another. They are the life and soul of this early summer morning, and I wonder how many hues of green my eyes are witnessing. As they stretch upwards and outwards toward the light, drinking in rays as pure as the rain, I stretch my arms up too, fingers spread toward the sun and slowly begin to dance.
