Those of the Wing'd Capacity

It was morning, but the sky was silenced, still, by the dominance of night. She knew well the pull of gravity, the weight of the stars beyond the horizon. But she also remembered dawn.

She slipped her feet from her shoes, slowly placing her toes upon the thin, white sheet of frost that blanketed the dark underlying pavement. Toe, then ball, then heel. She drew them, pointedly, across the   ground, one step, two step, three step. Slowly, the arms around her cold body came to her sides, fingers parting in sudden tremor. The tight knot above her head came loose, locks of tresses enveloping her shoulders. The fabric that once clung to her core blew against her, rising and falling with the heaving in and out of her chest.

And she danced until her heart thundered from within; until her eyes need not remain open; until the ground ceased to meet her feet and the birds be her sole companions.

@ 2011 by Rachel Lowry. All Rights Reserved {photos via vi.sualize.us}

1 comment: