I wander through my garden, in search for inspiration or something greater, but unfortunately the season has been slow and many of my plants are struggling.
Like myself, a withering sunflower in the July heat.
Regardless of my uncertainty the sun still rises, unphased.
I watch my wildflowers sway with the breeze, looking something like a painting.
I sit cross legged now in the dirt, mud absorbs the fabric of my overalls.
I'm aware of my surroundings and not much else. I'd like a field full of such flowers, where I could spend all day dwelling in the many shades that dress each petal.
Maybe I belong between adventures, on the cusp of a daydream
The sun fell behind the clouds 
I think I belong somewhere I feel free.