individuals to embrace their
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Along the estuary, spoonbills sifted mud like monks in meditation Each sweep of their bills found silence, then sustenance Their rhythm made the world feel less chaotic
Wild oats waved golden along the roadside, fields of movement and whispered sound, and a hawk shadow flickered over their dance.
The rainforest floor steamed after rain Fungi bloomed like galaxies beneath my feet Even decay can be beautiful
I’m not here to grow. I’m here to notice.