Kristin O’Neal – Atlanta, GA

My feet firm on the concrete and toes on the sewer grate
The afternoon rain gushes along my ankles and sieves through my toes (there’s a richer metaphor here, something like a broken dam, but I can’t quite find it….)
Echoes of the sewer pipes reveal the vastness of the earth deep beneath me
Upward facing, the rain hits my face soothing my eyes closed, standing in the urban cacophony of nature that is my escape, my safety, my quiet.

A tree named Sally provides my afternoon nap
Perfectly shaped and sturdy, easy to reach, swing, climb,
Then rest my head and torso toward the leaning trunk before me
A tree-hugger well before I’d learned of the term, Sally hugged me back, no words, only a rustling of her leaves in dialogue with me and the wind.

Our garden, with the richest, darkest soil only someone from the Midwest can understand/appreciate—When I’m warming up in the studio, I always visualize and reference the green bean sprout emerging from the earth, rooting my tail and beaming my heart toward the imaginary sunshine…I feel fortunate to have this consistent memory that feeds me daily…

Running full speed through corn fields

I am comforted by the rolling Ohio hills filled with rows of corn and soy bean field