Que Sera Sara?

Dappled things speak of peace.

The warm flank of a milkcow. The fuzzy mottle of a black and white bunny.

The mix-and-mingle of light and shadow streaming through an apple tree in full bloom.

My favorite: the shimmer of refraction skirting a pool floor or sand bar, twisting tendrils of brightness against the cool depths. A lullaby for the eyes, soothing and entrancing.

It’s magical. Invisible things dancing matter-of-factly, clearly visible and clearly comfortable with this contradiction.

It’s okay, they say, everything is going to be alright. (Let your invisible things meander in this place too.)