evanescence

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Jewels. They're feathered jewels. Gold. Red. Orange. Blue. Even streaked in black-and-white.

They're there for all to see, and flash, like the ephemeral wildflowers, the feathered woodland sprites are gone. That's part of their beauty, their evanescence. Did I see it? Or did I not? Here one minute, gone the next. Dozens of migrating warblers are flitting through the valley.

"A black-and-white warbler marked with script flies down. Disappears. No warbler stays visible for long."

Indeed. They induce light-headedness but like the champagne's bubbles. Pop. Pop. Pop. They're gone. Gone. Gone.


-Quote from “The Inland Island” by Josephine Johnson

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