The Yellow Season

There is a time in the cycle of the year when the earth decides to be loud. It happens in the fields, where the soil pushes up color so bright it hurts the eyes to look. We are taught that childhood is a preparation, a waiting room for the gravity of adulthood. But watching the way hands move through stems and petals, I wonder if they are the only ones who truly understand the present. They do not look for the harvest. They do not calculate the yield. They simply take what is offered, weaving the sun into their hair as if it were a permanent thing. We spend our lives trying to hold onto the light, forgetting that the light is not meant to be kept. It is meant to be worn, briefly, before the wind takes it back. Does the field remember the weight of the flowers once they are gone?

Shahnaz Parvin has captured this fleeting grace in her image titled Vibrant Crowns of Natural Beauty. It is a quiet reminder of how we once touched the world before we learned to measure it. Can you still feel the weight of a crown made of nothing but stems?