Today's photo was taken by me (hence the askew perspective..). It's of a piece of art created by my friend Daphna Dubin, and "borrowed" with her permission.
It's called Stress.
I kind of ignored that...
High above the forest she flew, her voice, her song carrying all around her as she moved through the air with easy, agile grace born out of years of practice. Below her she could see the top of evergreen trees, still painted black by the night that has not yet receded, except from the horizon far to her left.
She turned her head towards the nearing dawn and smiled at the faint color that began to peal back the thick dark blanket of night. Turning her focus back towards her route she flexed her shoulders. An unnecessary gesture, but considering she would soon need to cease this way of traveling and touch her feet to the ground, limbering her body after a long night spent with only chill air as a companion seemed to be a good option. She spread her arms, mindful of the rings which adorned each of her middle fingers.
Her smile grew, and her song increased in intensity from the simple joy of feeling the air flow around her, through her hair, and back, as if parting before her and caressing her at the same time. The earliest rays of light from the new day caressing her, breaking into a multitude of colors from the clear gems adorning the rings on her fingers.
The dawn was nearly upon her now, the sky to her left mostly gray and turning a pale shade of blue, and then gold as if to signal the sun's arrival. She turned then, angling herself towards the ground with her feet leading the way and her arms still outstretched. Her song quietened more and more as her distance to the ground diminished, until her feet touched the dew-damp soil, and the song ended with lips parted in a soft smile.
She stretched again, her arms rising far above her head, and then she looked around, her eyes quickly falling on a long branch lying on the ground. She walked towards it and picked it up, putting her hand against the tree from which it fell in thanks before turning the rings and hiding the gems inside her slightly closed hands. With one last gaze through the tall trees, now once again green, thanks to the light, she bowed her shoulders, lowered her head and left the tree, using the fallen limb as a walking staff.
But not before one last look, and a pat of thanks to the rough bark.