She sits in the frame
like someone who has learned
that softness is not the opposite of strength.
The trees rise behind her,
straight with purpose,
while she folds herself into the moment
as if time can be held gently.
A small smile—
not asking to be noticed,
not trying to disappear.
Just there.
Like a quiet path through a forest,
certain of where it goes
without needing a signpost.
