Earth

It is peaceful here; that's the first and foremost thing I know. Here, seated between the gnarled bark and twisted limbs of an apple orchard still in bloom after the warm spring. How can anything tainted stir them, or me, here? Yet I feel a festering disturbance in my gut; I hear it in the hiss of wind through the hazel leaves that creep along the edges of this sweet place; faint, but there.

The larger trees heave and sigh in the heat of the sun. The tips of their branches tremble and lick, hungrily, at the moisture in the air. I want to join them, dance with them in the great surging cry of the wind; the breath of a goddess. She lingers in their roots.