A solitary orchid
on top of a fallen tree trunk
stands as a testament to perseverance,
its periwinkle petals, freckles clustered
around the base of each smooth face.

A gust of wind bows, once, twice.
The orchid wavers slightly, bending
down towards the tree trunk as if
giving a kiss, but then subtly withdraws,
returning to its original state:
a light-skinned virgin
standing on a fallen pedestal.

Penned by my hand on the 18th of Ero, in the year 454 AF.