Artist: Garmash

Nature’s Breath

Sara reclined against the sloping shore of the beach with her palms flat on the sand behind her. She felt the cool wet softness of the sand on her skin. She casually extended her right foot forward. A small wave washed over her leg – refreshing. She exhaled the worries of the previous days as she extended her other leg.

A few moments passed, perhaps many as she drifted into quiet contemplation. With each soothing wave that washed over her legs she drifted further. Looking out at the horizon, she let her mind wander – yet, she felt something vying for her attention. She puzzled, what was it that teased the edges of her mind? Just clouds flowing along the surface of the water on the horizon – yet there was something…

She felt herself concentrating on the horizon – what was it? There was a steady movement of clouds, a certain rhythm, almost a breath, and another wave. Strange, the clouds seemed to move in rhythm with the waves. Was she imagining things? She felt almost lulled by the movement – in step with her breaths…

“Sara, Sara, look at this peeble. It is perfect.” Alex squealed.

Sara snapped back and had to gather herself for a moment before asking “Peeble?” “Oh, you mean pebble.” “That’s nice, Lexu” she floated out. “No! No! really look” Alex pleaded. “See how smooth and flat the surface is. It’s almost perfectly round” Alex beamed. “I can get 5 skips across the water for sure. Tati said 5 skips would wake the lady of the lake” Alex smiled.

Her thoughts momentarily diverted, Sara inspected the pebble more thoroughly this time. She gave her younger brother an approving smile. He grinned ear to ear.

“Now watch me skip it. I bet we see the lady of the lake for sure.” Alex ran a finger around the pebble’s circular edge – and with the suddenness of youth, he flipped the pebble in his hand and darted further down the shore to his special skipping spot.

Alex came to an abrupt stop – just out of the reach of the breaking waves on the shore – he turned and smiled at Sara. Once sure he had her attention, he faced the lake and carefully took one step forward with his right foot.

He pulled his right arm back parallel to the ground – elbow bent at his waist. He used his right foot to launch his left side forward – his arm pulled further back behind his body. Sara watched his practiced fluid forward motion with a bit of amazement. He seemed to release the pebble at the last possible moment.

Alex never took his eyes off the pebble as his fingers reluctantly released it – spinning and gliding perfectly parallel to the horizon. The first brush with the lake was ten feet out – he could see ripples in the water as the pebble returned to flight. The pebble glided a little to the left and brushed against the water another ten feet out. Alex was transfixed.

As the pebble continued with its third and fourth dance with the surface, the lake seemed to calm – almost as if waiting. Alex kept his focus on counting the skips, but Sara began to feel that strange something surface again. The fifth skip was almost an embrace with the water. With a final kiss on the surface, the lake accepted her gift as the pebble slowly receded from sight.

Sara recognized the breath on her skin before she saw her …

Michael

Artist: Julie Snyder

Blaze of Defiance

“She’s a blaze of defiance”, Peter said as he wrapped his arms around her from behind. “Peter…” Kristen let the words trail as she felt his kiss along her neck. She instinctively folded into him – her hands sliding naturally over his. How did he always manage to make her feel like … “like what?” She tried to grasp the words to describe how he made her feel – “like home” she sighed.

“The last leaf – burgundy – clinging defiantly on our elm tree”, Peter continued. “She doesn’t want to leave the comfort of her tree” Kristen floated out. Peter squeezed Kristen slightly more as he said “Yes … I can understand that – and perhaps the tree doesn’t want her to leave as well”.

They stood together looking out of their kitchen window into the backyard. The ground was blanketed in white from the late night snowfall. Peter noted the snow seemed to mute the sound and colors of the backyard. The single exception was the lone burgundy leaf.

“Do you think the leaf will stay?” Kristen suddenly asked.

He could feel the weight of her question – the hidden complexity. He knew he should answer, but the words would not come. An invisible force held them deep within. She turned into him – her eyes holding his. “Could she see what he wanted to tell her?” he wondered. She said nothing for a few moments and then slowly turned back in his arms.

They watched in silence as the leaf held fast to her branch. All Peter could do was hold on to Kristen as tight as possible.

Michael

Artist: Christine Comyn

He Thinks of Her

A sudden fluttering sound followed by a flash of red catches his attention. Dylan looks up from his writing and searches for his friend. Momentarily distracted from his words, he feels the cool breeze wash over him through the open window as he looks for movement. “Ah, there you are Chase” he says as he spots his red cardinal friend hopping along the ground at the edge of the bushes.

As if hearing Dylan, Chase quickly tilts his head towards the open window – but, seemingly on alert. ‘Hmm – there’s something different about you today’ Dylan catches himself thinking. Before he is able to finish the thought, he tries to register a new flash of red – and the blur of two red cardinals darting in and out of the bushes – in an aggressive game of tag. “Ah, so that wasn’t Chase” Dylan smiles to himself as they disappear into the woods.

As Dylan returns to his writing, an unanswered question teases his mind, “Hmm, how did I know something was different with that red cardinal?” He silently laughs to himself as the rational parts of him lay out possible reasons. His crown was slightly darker than Chase’s – he tilted his head differently – his feet seemed shorter – his… The other parts of him simply smile within at the futility to apply logic – he just knew … that was all.

Feeling his mind come back into focus, Dylan looks at the writing on the paper. He reads the three new paragraphs just written by him, and yet not. They are his words – the style unmistakably his. Yet, he doesn’t remember writing them. He traces his fingers over the letters on the page. Yes, they feel right – given the situation – a certain touch of sadness.

Another distinctive flutter of wings catches his ears. Dylan looks up to the spot he knew she’d be – and there she was. Hope sits in her usual branch in the oak tree just outside his window – a casual air about her. More than once he wondered if Nicole would return to him as Hope always did for Chase. “And … did Hope just smile at me?’ Dylan shakes his head in amusement. ‘Ok – back to my writing’ he says wistfully.

His mind drifts back into the last words on the page. ‘Hmm – what comes next?” he wonders. A mischievous breeze flows in through the window and plays with the loose pages he set to the side earlier. He reacts quickly to catch them before they blow off his desk. The words ‘and … he thinks of her’ come into view. ‘Yes, of course – it fits”, he sighs.

Michael

Artist: Christine Comyn

A Breath Away

With her back to the open bedroom window, Kristen felt the warm summer breeze wash over her exposed shoulder. She stood motionless for several moments – waiting for something – not quite sure what. The breeze seemed to stir her thoughts – almost carry them away. She felt herself struggle to hang on to them – distant thoughts of him.

She wondered ‘does he feel me wearing ‘the’ red dress – my left shoulder exposed just so – at this very moment?’ She smiled sadly at the thought – at the game they played. He’d guess what color dress she would wear for him that day. Somehow he always seemed to know. She knew this particular dress was his favorite – and even though black was typically her preference, it had become hers too.

For some reason Kristen decided to wear it today – after storing it away for so long. It almost felt like he had selected the dress for her – a premonition perhaps? She resisted the urge to turn around – to look out the window, expecting to see him coming up the path – as he had so many times before. She felt a deep sigh escape her.

As if awakening for a moment, the open box at the foot of her bed came into focus. The clothes – his clothes folded neatly inside. She tried to remember why she had pulled the box out of the closet. And then it came back to her.

Another breath of air teased the surface of her shoulder. She instinctively shivered from the sensation of his touch. Her fingers traced along the outline of her shoulder – where his lips would be. His words played in her mind ‘I’m just a breath away, my love – always.’ She didn’t notice the first tear…

Michael

Artist: Charles Dwyer

Her Dream

Kristen strolls through the woods with no particular direction in mind. Her spirit brightens as she wanders from the well-worn path – something within draws her deeper. As she clears the first few trees, she notices the chaotic moving shadows on the ground in front of her. Her eyes lift towards to the sunlight filtering through the trees. She smiles as she watches the leaves in a dance with the breeze – they remind her of his touch. The sensation washes over her in erotic rhythms – teases her skin. Her fingers instinctively extend – expecting his touch. She feels … what? Something familiar…

She continues to wander – something pulling her forward. As she walks, she thinks she sees him in shadows floating around the edges. Her senses overflow with desire – “where is he?” she wonders aloud. The only reply – from the rustling leaves. Yet, she feels him close – as if he was wrapped around her … like a blanket. The further she walks along, the stronger his presence feels. She begins to slow her pace – not quite sure why – but she feels him – just a breath away.

She dreams in sensual patterns – immersed in his magical spell. Her waking moment comes with the taste of his lips. He smiles as she opens her eyes – returning to him from a dream – his dream. Her impossible beauty takes his breath – her eyes invite him in. He has to join her…

Michael

Artist: Edward Hughes

Dream Essence

Stella drifts through the woods with no direction in mind. Not sure why, she follows a wispy breeze as it dances with the leaves that seem to be waving to her. She feels the breeze’s languid breaths wash over her skin in soothing rhythmic waves – pulling her towards something. She’s vaguely aware of the ripples in the fabric of her clothes – a familiar sensation teases her.

Her mind gradually focuses on a peculiar looking shrub to her right. With its ribbon-like turquoise colored flowers wavering about, she tentatively moves towards it. Seemingly with a mind of its own, her hand extends to feel it – the silky texture of the flower greets her fingers.

Entranced, she picks a flower from the shrub for a closer inspection – she has to feel it near her. A sweet aroma escapes to air. Suddenly overwhelmed, she feels herself slowly lie down with the flower in hand – her senses immersed.

Luke smiles as he feels Stella pull close against him. He lays his book on the bedside table and quietly turns towards her. He gently strokes her hair with his hand and leans in to kiss her good night. He feels her smile form on his lips – wonders what she is dreaming at this moment.

He thinks momentarily about getting up to close the bedroom window. However, looking down at his impossibly beautiful Stella – he can’t pull himself away. He smiles as she pulls even closer – the smell of the wisteria wafts in the room through the open window. Luke leans in to kiss her again – he has to.

Michael

Artist: John Sargent

The Child Within

The sounds were faintly familiar, Natalie thought. She felt them softly brush upon her ears with the breeze – almost a caress. Languidly seated on her favorite chair in the backyard, she looked up from the first pages of her book towards the woods. She tried to place the source – but, they seem to float all around her.

She sat still for several moments – anticipating … what? She wasn’t quite sure – and now, she only heard the occasional rustle of the leaves – ‘squirrels, perhaps?’ she wondered. Not quite satisfied, she slowly returned her mind to Dylan sitting in the café – Jenny had just walked by. Natalie could hear Jenny’s footsteps on the cobblestones.

‘Well, what does she look like?’ came a whispered voice. “He hasn’t really described her yet … wait … who said that?” Natalie suddenly caught herself asking aloud. The fading muffled laughter was undeniable – she heard it. Laying her book in her lap, she called out “Ethan – is that you?” – knowing it couldn’t be. She was alone now – her choice she knew.

Natalie’s thoughts returned to a familiar place – Robert Frost’s poem ‘The Road Not Taken”. After all these years, she still wondered if she’d chosen the right path. And just like that, a movement of buried thoughts stirred up the sentiments of doubt. Her finger idly traced the binding of the book as she pulled up long faded memories of Ethan and her.

“I wonder where he is at this particular moment – and is he thinking of me?” She cursed herself for having these thoughts on her mind. She sat motionless for several moments – hoping the growing cold feeling within her would fade away. As if a blanket folded around her, she heard the soft child-like voice within command her, “It’ll be alright – now, please read me the rest of the story.” This time Natalie just smiled and opened her book – “The moon cast Jenny’s silhouette across his table as she walked past the cafe – drawing his eyes to her..”

Michael

Artist: Taras Loboda

Chasing Shadows

As the cool breeze flows pass, Emily slows her pace. The wispy sensation on her skin triggers a familiar feeling within. She instinctively extends her fingers – expecting his touch. She hesitantly opens herself to a flood of buried emotions – her desires …

The rustle of leaves to her left brings Emily’s thoughts back to her surroundings. With a vague feeling that she is returning from another moment in time, she slowly starts to look around. Trees line the path in front of her – ‘how far have I walked – and how long?’ she asks herself. She tries to remember if this is the place – the place she always seems to feel him.

Emily smiles as she hears his whisper on the breeze – softly teasing her. His voice flows within – resonating in rhythm with her heart. She strains to hear his words – always so close … and, yet always just out of reach. He’s here – she knows it – feels it. She breathes him in with the sweet smell of soggy leaves wafting in the air – enveloping her – protecting her.

Something within drives her to the edge of the path – to a particular elm tree. She feels the tree breathing – branches swaying – leaves dancing with the breeze. A shadow movement behind the leaves catches her eye – tricks of the sunlight filtering through the tree, perhaps. And then … and then … she smiles as she sees it appear – a hidden path – the first time it is visible to her.

“Today”, his voice says within her as she takes a step inside…

Michael

Artist: Vincent Van Gogh

Cafe Glance

Dylan quickly glanced up and down the cobbled stone street before returning his gaze to the untouched glass of wine. She would walk by any minute now … he was certain of it. On such a perfect night, with the full moon in play – she would surely stop when she saw him, he decided. Absently, he traced his middle finger along the lip of the glass. “Yes, she would surely stop”, he repeated to himself.

As he gazed off into the street, her image suddenly flooded his mind – with impossible beauty that always made his heart stop. He smiled at the thought of her swirling blue eyes that would hypnotize him so easily – and her brilliant smile that took his breath away. He floated on the rhythmic sway of her fingers as she walked – her private dance with the breeze – a dance she invited him to join. He could see her dress flirt across her knees as she reached for his hand. He smiled at her fluid movement …he could almost feel her touch.

And yet … instead, he felt a familiar tinge of sadness. A sadness that surprised him at this moment – after all, he was so close to her now. How long had it been since he last saw her? Almost three years. Going back to the states seemed like the right choice then … and now? Did he have regrets? He was unsure. But, he knew the reason he came back to visit Arles – was to see her. Had he always known he would return? So many emotions surfacing all at once – his hand slid down around the glass – caressing it with his fingers as he drifted in thought.

He floated back to the first night he saw her …

Michael

Artist: Lauri Blank

Butterfly Dance

Leaning on the patio railing, Nicole gazes out into the backyard. It’s a Sunday afternoon in late autumn. The sun streams through the trees diffusing into golden ghostly glows. In a dance with the breeze and the leaves, the glow lands as undulating patterns of shade and light on the ground – all the way to the edge of the patio. The effect feels like waves lapping against a shore – nature at play.

Nicole feels a soothing rhythm from the shadow waves as her mind slowly begins to drift. She spots a pair of butterflies – they dance in and out of the shade. She feels herself swept up in the movement of their fluttering wings. Her mind travels thousands of miles away … to him … always back to him. She sees him walking along the lake – his smile suddenly bright. He knows she is thinking of him.

Nicole feels his touch with the cool breeze on her skin. She runs her fingers over her arms in response. She watches as he bends down to pick up a pebble along the shore of the lake. He carefully examines it – appraising its shape – making sure it is just right. After a moment, he turns to her .. and with a mischievous smile, he asks her … again. Then, he turns back towards the lake and skips the pebble across the surface – she hears the words repeat with each skip.

Nicole involuntarily traces the fingers of her right hand over the pebble on the railing – then cradles it in her hand. She suddenly feels the weight of his question as she plays with the pebble in her hand. She sees his image in front of her – smiling … she sighs as the two butterflies land together inches from her hand – waiting for her reply…

Michael