There are days when the white clouds look like flocks of birds, which will descend to destroy the flowers. Their menacing shapes symbolize evil, out to destroy happiness. I desperately want to spread a net on the flowers, or cover them with my body to protect.
There are days when I think that the sky reflects the blooms below, and will transform into a heavenly garden. I foresee the blooms growing taller to meet their counterparts up there, supported by the soil and greens below, and a murmuration of birds saluting the union.
reflect innermost struggles
I find myself