I went to the Wellspring. I was liquid and flowing. I was Wellspring. We laughed at that. I gifted her with the way the light chipped through the leaves.
The bear came. He was warm and smelled earthy. I buried my fingers in his fur, pressed my heart up against him. I worked down from his ears, combing his fur with my fingers, picking out the twigs and leaves, seeking out the heat of him. I climbed on his back to reach his shoulders and he got up and started walking up the hill. The steep places are easier for him than they are for me. He never lost his footing. At the cave I got down but pressed my shoulder back against his chest, reluctant to move on without him, reluctant to pass into the day without him.
He assured me that I am never without him, much less here now. I gifted him with a necklace of sea shells. They rattled when he moved like small clackety bells. He licked my arms, my face, my heart. There was a weight on my heart which he lifted and settled in to gnaw on, urging me to go on while he took care of it. I slipped through the bright fissure into a softness of green. No road today, just small flashes of sun, the wind in the leaves, the tender green along the ground.
I sat right down. There was no need to go anywhere. The woods were full of creatures. Fox was there but did not approach. This was not a fox day. Deer man was there and we practiced presence. There was a spring at the other side of the small clearing. Butterflies lit and fell. I lined the edge of the spring with small golden bowls. A gift of honoring and receiving.
The butterflies lit on my arms and lifted. I bloomed into a bed of white flowers. This is all that needs to be done, to be the secret bed of flowers in the clearing in the wood. The sweet small scent lifted through the canopy and into the blue.