Where I am

In the absence of the studio, at the rhythm of the hands that shape and broaden its horizon.
The whispering silence of the inhale.
In situ, where you are.
Open the gate, leaves crackling under the steps of breath.
Look quickly, before it escapes.
Gather.
Press on, carried away by the movement.
Make.
Without restraint.
Delicately.
Cutting a swathe.
Breathe.
A new path opens.

Bowl of nature.