Livora Gracely

Beauty arrived before anyone explained it.
The little lion agreed very politely.

The first time Lady Elowen opened her sleeves, the garden became quiet.

Not because it was impressed.

Gardens were rarely impressed.

They simply preferred to observe first and form committees later.

Her gown was made of pale blue silk, soft green folds, and flowers so lightly stitched that even the butterflies checked twice to see whether they were real.

When she lifted both arms, her sleeves opened like two gentle fans.

Behind her, the giant petals on the wall leaned closer.

The little plush lion sat at her right side with excellent posture.

“You may begin,” said Lady Elowen.

Nobody knew whom she was speaking to.

The lion nodded anyway.

That was one of his duties.

A breeze entered the room, examined the sleeves, and decided to behave more gracefully than usual.

One petal trembled.

Another unfolded.

The gown shimmered as if remembering a meadow it had never visited.

Lady Elowen smiled.

“So it is true.”

The lion looked up.

“What is true?” she asked, because the lion was better at listening than answering.

The petals opened a little wider.

The sleeves curved like wings that had chosen manners over flying.

And then the room understood.

Nature had not come to decorate her dress.

The dress had been waiting for nature to recognize itself.

The little lion considered this carefully.

Then he tipped slightly to one side, which everyone accepted as applause.