© 2026 Aga, author of Art in Cupboard. All rights reserved.
This original creative work is my own. It may not be copied, reproduced,
republished, modified, distributed, commercially used, scraped, used for AI
training, or presented as the work of another person without my prior written
permission.
As I walk through the park, time softens around me. Birds chirp from unseen branches, their voices weaving lightly through the air.
The sun rests gently on my skin, warm without insisting, while a delicate wind passes by — a quiet whisper brushing leaves along the path.
New leaves are unfolding in shades of light green, tender and translucent, catching the light as if still learning how to be leaves. Above me, clouds move slowly, gliding quietly across an open sky. Nothing feels hurried. Nature plays its quiet rhythm — steady, unforced — and I find myself walking in time with it.
I pass mothers with children, small hands tugging forward, voices bright with play. A little further on, a walker pauses beside an old dog, grey around the muzzle. We stop together for a moment. ''Fifteen years'', the owner says, smiling, and we share a soft chuckle at the gift of time stretching kindly.
On the playing field, elderly men roll balls back and forth, focused on movements shaped by long familiarity. Nearby, a father kicks a ball with his son, energy spilling unevenly, laughter resetting the rhythm each time it goes astray.
Closer to the water, a male duck follows closely behind a female, his walk earnest and faintly ridiculous — April announcing itself without apology. Not far away, a small van stands waiting, a quiet queue forming. Children shuffle patiently, eyes bright, anticipation sweetening the afternoon before the ice creams even arrive.
The yellow appears over horizon
Like a radiant and soft fragranced zine
Sweet and gentle breath of wind touching them
The palette yellow intensity thrills
Abundant blooms dancing in the shine
What would a Nature be without daffodils?
I slow my steps and let the colour settle into me. There is nothing to complete here, nothing to resolve. Just walking. Listening. Watching lives pass gently alongside my own.
Out here, attention gathers naturally — around sound, movement, light shifting across faces and grass. The body moves forward, the mind grows quieter, and noticing becomes enough. I follow the path as it opens ahead, carried by the ordinary richness of being here.
© 2026 Aga, author of Art in Cupboard. All rights reserved.
This original creative work is my own. It may not be copied, reproduced,
republished, modified, distributed, commercially used, scraped, used for AI
training, or presented as the work of another person without my prior written
permission.
