the small blue bottle with a vital message inside washing up at your feet; the fog lifting; a thing of beauty.

filling the pie crust with freshly-picked cherries; six partridges crossing the road; an old-fashioned parking meter with time left in it.

moving off the fault line; feeling the tremors of springtime; entering the Peloponnesus from the Isthmus of Corinth.

hiding under a mossy rock; owning the store; dancing through the seven veils.

tapioca pudding; wishing you were right; the great gates into the city.

exquisite balance; charging with your sword held high; resting on a bed of moss.

leaving behind your caravan and your people and setting out on a solitary adventure; listening; receiving a gift of all of the stars that exist.

running down the slope of wild thyme; your wings spread wide; walking into the painting and looking around from the inside.

walking into the northern lights; the Ring of Brodgar on Orkney; setting it free.

laying down the tracks, one at a time; rose and chamomile cream; a friendly poltergeist in the house.

full moon in Virgo on a windy night; Tintagel; knowing when it’s time to stop.

ripples lapping at the shore of the city; being caught in the rain and finding yourself in a strange part of the woods; a shiny new truck to play with.

crossing into the Great Steppes; fresh yellow tulips beside him; breathing so deeply you become breath.

removing new paint to reveal a rare hidden painting underneath; the blue lamp; laying down your sword.

cantering into the mist; yellow snapdragons in moonlight; heading home.

discovering two snowflakes that are exactly alike; a fresh blank canvas; moments like these.

the hotel window overlooking the piazza; rare carvings in the earth; the pigeon bringing your message from far away.

lighting the tiki torches to greet the explorer home; sleeping under the stars; smoke from burning sage filling the house.

savoring six delicious pomegranate seeds; Green Tara; discovering a secret map taped to the underside of a bureau drawer that shows where treasure is buried in your backyard.

pelicans skimming the crest of the waves seeking silver sardines; becoming very still in Fingal’s Cave; fresh, dark green olive oil from a barrel.