Gemotions

David leaned against the old oak tree in his backyard, the bark rough against his back. He'd spent the afternoon tending his garden, the earthy smell of soil and the warmth of the sun creating a simple pleasure. The gentle breeze rustled the leaves overhead. He watched as a honeybee buzzed from flower to flower.

He closed his eyes, inhaling the sweet fragrance of the roses. The demands of his clients drifted away, replaced by the peaceful hum of nature. The gentle thrum of the cicadas created a perfect backdrop. He felt like his thoughts were being filtered, washed clean.

Later, he saw it on a t-shirt in a shop downtown: a design taken directly from his garden sketchbooks. No mention of him, the artist.