In the background I see the Goddesses, their yellow heads bobbing in the light gust that just blew Birdies llama locks out of her big, beautiful, dark, brown eyes. I hear them too, the Goddesses, some humming, others chanting, and one calls out,
Look at me, I am tall today but I am bending, I am lowering to Earth, do you see?
A sheep comes out of the barn, acknowledges our distant figures near the gate and turns to pass the sunflowers, preferring to commune with grasses, chewing some and feeling others under her feet.
Birdie approaches me and curls her neck like a swan, suggesting I stroke her, which I do, how can I not? And she puts her head on my shoulder, we spoon like this all the time, somewhat abnormal for a llama. But she is no ordinary llama.
"Thank you, Birdie, for taking a moment with me," I told her.
Before you go, she says in my ear, before you go, go look at the sunflower. She is leaving soon.
I told you...she is not an ordinary llama.
I leave for the barn to do morning chores, she leaves for her lower field, joining her charges. I can see her looking towards me, or is she watching out for that sunflower?
