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She walks through the field of long dancing grain as the sun sinks into the early evening sky. Horse flies and cicadas buzz all around her and the wind is hot and restless. Little birds are singing good night songs and nestling into their treetop homes. She looks around at the scene and she feels alive in her solitude. Her mind wanders as bits of gold sunlight settle on the edges of things, her brain playing with words to describe the beauty around her…discovering metaphors in the trees and the light and the movement of the breeze. Her sun browned skin radiates warmth as it soaks up the the last low rays before the blanket of night settles in, warm and dark. She has always been a wanderer. ...