Alive

She stood barefoot, her back against the old oak tree. She shut her eyes. She dug her toes into the rich, welcoming earth which lay between the oak tree’s gnarly roots. They were warm in the primeval dust which had swallowed them up. She almost felt them grow, reach down deeper, further, closer to the timeless, abyssal mysteries. She slowly raised her arms above her head. She could hear the suave whispering of the leaves above her. The wind, evanescent lover, stroked her hair, caressed her soul. Her face glowed in the sun. She could feel its fingertips on her cheeks. She smiled. She knew at that moment that she was alone, utterly, fatally alone. But she was alive. And that was enough.