By Catherine O’Brien
She emerged into a thimbleful of light. Her coat was made of ungranted wishes and orchard air. She held much in reserve. Her mind genuflected to no one’s will but her own. She could not abide human neglect, how little they listened to the soft music of their souls. She was not unkind and so helped them piece it together.
She made them ache for beauty to be everywhere. Her forest spread its wonders at their feet. All forms of life scampered through her domain. Although some, like the deer, could be gone in a dash like a click of knitting needles. You could see flowers growing in jagged scars, squirrels leaping as though for a bet, a woodpecker tapping its rhythmic verse or a herd of goats bell ringing. Look carefully and you could see understanding running in rivulets, not to be mistaken for dew on grass.
Catherine O’Brien is an Irish writer of poems, flash fiction and short stories. She writes bi-lingually in both English and Irish. Her work has appeared in print and online. She holds a Ph.D. in English Literature. Her work is forthcoming in Idle Ink, Janus Literary, Free Flash Fiction, LoftBooks and more. You can find her on Twitter @abairrud2021.
The Birdseed 