Les poules couvent souvent au couvent.

Dress in saturated sage, magenta violet canary seafoam circles.
Lithe tan limbs.
Strong smile, kind voice, sly grin worth knowing.
Unpracticed poise from presence in the moment.
Dirt is not dirty, it is loam, soil, potential.
Plonger la main au plus profond d’un sac de grains.

Les poules couvent souvent au couvent.
Take in your senses, children, slow things to remember them.
Things you know in this time of life are growing all around you, take it in.
Things will not always be growing, growth will slow all around you.
Things you know will decay, more things, as you grow.
Draw out the time and the life and the colors and the tastes as you can.
Train yourself to observe, discover new measurements, new standards.

Alors, quand le moment vient, il faut sauter la barrière sans hésiter.
Do not fear the quiet, impose it during a flurry, use it. Return to it.
The quiet space may be empty, but empty is not hollow.
Les temps sont durs pour les rêveurs.
You can train yourself, in every place, to listen, see, taste, breathe.
Remember in the stark times to laugh at the cold.
That is your breath, your will. They are for you.