i noted how she flapped her wings and flew up and up
i sat at the kitchen table thumbing through coupons that i knew i would never use
and she flew and flew
i grabbed a pen and began doodling black swirls on napkins until they ripped
and the pen stabbed the table
now with enough altitude she began to glide and let the wind cup her body and take her
wherever it wished and she sang
i moved to the window and sat perched for hours painting with my imagination, a home, a house,
a tree in front of this house, small children playing in and out of this tree, they swung from limb to limb and carelessly took down several leaves that floated for a few seconds before caressing the grassy knoll
i painted a yellow kite with feathers that longed to be free of its attached string
i slept on the front porch that night, nibbling on clovers and dandelions until my teeth were a grassy green and my tongue a sunny yellow
and i laughed and cried and laughed and cried
dancing and painting streaks of bright red and yellow across the nightsky
i stumbled down a valley painting down the side of the valley all the way to bottom
and grabbed onto a sturdy old tree pleading with it, "please do not let me go...", 

which the tree responded in the deepest of gargles, ". . . i will let go of you in the fall along with all my leaves and i will sit naked in the frigid winter and count the suns and moons and grow you again, as i do all my leaves"