There was peace and then there was peace. Mirabella shifted from where she sat. Legs crossed, arms crossed and expression agitated. Barefoot as she was, the grass tickled her feet, and the wind sent shivers into her hair and goosed at her skin.
But Mirabella was at peace.
It was winter, and the trees rose around her, twisted and gnarled – their earthly scents pearling smiles on her lips.
Late winter wisps fell, and her eyes tremored, movement before they opened from her meditative sleep. The leaves fell like wrinkled paper but with a sound more crisp.
Around her, nature stilled. The cry of crows and the scuttle of insects fell away as she hesitated – and then rose.
Not in any one season – but with Winter in her breath, a Spring in her step, Autumn in her hair and a Summer in the air.
There was peace and then there was peace.
In the end, it didn’t matter, she decided. It simply wasn’t relevant.
There was nothing better than living. She opened her eyes for what felt like the first time, and she found herself at peace.
It’s been a while since I’ve posted anything.
I do apologise, I’ve been very busy with life. So here’s a gift offering in peace.