By Magdalena Fanning
“How can I smile when the wind makes me frown?”
Cheeps the bluebird to her mother.
“Do not fight the wind little one, fate is not a choice.”
The nest sways in the summer evening wind.
You must specify the type of wind that you would like to picture.
Mid-day wind is soft, like a billowing picnic blanket.
Early morning frost wind is bitter cold, as it numbs the rosy cheeks of young children.
Summer evening wind is the dial of the warm summer day, tuning down, as children lay awake, dreaming of the ocean giving birth to the sunrise.
Another fledgeling from the nest several feet away spreads his wings, thinking, finally, of the day that will come tomorrow.
The day when he will learn to fly.
Inside of him, excitement blooms.
Mother orioles chirp to their young, “Tomorrow will come faster if you sleep through the night.”
All throughout the tree, 1 nest quiets down, ready for the coming tomorrow.
Tomorrow has come, and is now today.
The sun kisses the edge of the river, where it rises every morning.
The sand sweeps into clouds as families gather at the shoreline.
The river brushes against the soon-to-be-pruney toes of the children, and the memory of the present is now past.