Open Field

She stands in the open field, thinking about all her loving friends. Still she stands alone with certain things, understood only by some. Just as the lone bird, perched on the tree branch in the distance. Outsiders who know nothing choose to pass judgement at times. They are wrong as the vehicle that just passed her on the street. It weaved back and forth into the wrong lane, as she swerved to miss it. The field is bright with wisps of yellow blowing in the whistling wind. So fierce the wind can be at times, breaking branches, even in peace. She turned her head to see the lone bird had flown, time for her to go. She left knowing there is nothing more reliable than God and herself. She will return to the field, but may never see that same bird again. Heidi Sands