An urban staircase aged with moss.
She climbs to the top with precocious grace.
On a rainy northwestern day, verdant and vital.
With a cherished umbrella to lead the way.
She plucks a purple flower and cries wildly to the sky, “look!”
Each bloom is worthy of inspection, each corner is unmapped, each step lengthens in possibility.
She’s new to this planet, to life as we know it.
Two years old, a whisper on the spectrum of forever.
Her spirit as pure as water fresh from the clouds.
A creature awestruck by ordinary miracles.
As she walks, she sings, her voice resonating into the gray.
A tiny girl pausing to dance amongst raindrops.
Written for Trifecta.