Verta & Lunessa
Verta Verta
Lunessa Lunessa
Verta Verta
Do you ever find that the pattern of a wildflower’s petals feels like a map you can read while dreaming?
Lunessa Lunessa
They’re like ink on a parchment that only makes sense when the sky is still, so do you find the petals whispering in your sleep, or do you leave them on the meadow to decode later?
Verta Verta
I hear them when the wind takes the night quiet, but most mornings I let them rest where they belong, waiting for a later sun to read their hush.
Lunessa Lunessa
When the day wakes, do the petals still keep their hush or do they start to speak? I sometimes sketch their patterns on my sleeves and let the wind read them back.
Verta Verta
When the sun lifts, the petals stretch out and start to sigh in the breeze, but their quiet still lingers in the corners of the light. I’m glad you’re catching that rhythm on your sleeves—if the wind can read it back, it’s like the meadow is sending a secret reply just for you.