pedaling awareness

Wild flowers from the meadow.

“Goooood Morrrr-ning!” Thalia calls to a bird on a wire.

The Mourning Dove blinks in reply.

“Mhmmmm… homophone!” Cal claps her hands in admiration of word play.

Nia nips a clover blossom with her nails. “Many letters. Many words. Infinite interpretations.”

Raise your words, not your voice. It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder.
~ Rumi

If you are used to living in a small room and suddenly discover a wide meadow, you might feel unsafe.
Everyone thinks that they want happiness, but they might not.
They might rather keep their stories about who they are and about what is impossible.
~ John Tarrant Bring Me the Rhinoceros