Somewhere She Forgot to Hurry

She paused mid-field, mid-thought, mid-air,
a yellow bicycle, wildflowers there
her hat hung low, her braid undone,
the grass too tall, the afternoon too long.
No destination worth the rush.
The meadow spoke in nothing but a hush.
She came to ride and stayed to breathe,
to let the green curl at her feet,
to hold the handlebars like hands
of someone who still understands
that the road can wait,
the flowers cannot.

Object number
015.2026.02