Sarah’s great beauty lies in her palette. In her abandoned embrace of each God given
day. She lives her life gently like brushstrokes on paper. Her words are
composed of butterfly kisses. She is a whimsical fantasy airbrushed on silk. Each
step she takes is a lesson in grace. Her hair finely spun is the color of gold,
bringing shame to the rarest caesarian gold. I love to observe how it billows. I
love to behold how her lioness mane mimics the wind as it grazes our creek.
Fragrant garlands are always in riot upon her, marjoram and heather sprigs, lilac
blooms and flowering plums, hyacinths and daffodils, they all adore her. Always
barefoot, never shod, her lingering shadow lulls the mist then playfully she
chases it back to the sea where mists are born. She dances imperceptibly as
ancient gifts go echoing in this lovely canyon by the sea. Sarah hears the
Humpback's songs. She's familiar with their symphonies. Before the dawn is in
full flame she softly sings their given names, a serenade of untamed songs in
fourteen octaves still unknown; throughout the land for this she's famed. The
dawn bursts forth epiphanies when Sarah comes to hear Humpbacks sing, imagining
for just one moment there are no words nor sentiment, no godly reasons, no
concept even, for grief for war or pain. One thing we can be sure of, something
magic is afoot. Topanga Canyon

03/12/2012

Posted on 03/12/2012
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