conversation with the phoenix

I saw the phoenix in the garden today. Her nest is in the place where the shadows of winter swirl with the sun-patterns of spring, and she was sitting there preening her feathers when I arrived. I tried to be quiet, but I stepped on a branch. She looked at me and winked.

I expected her to fly away, like she usually does when I come too close. But she stayed. Then she spoke.

"Why don't you sit down?" she said.

I sat on a nearby stump. The phoenix stared at me.

"What's the matter with you?" she said.

"Uh..."

"No, really."

"I guess just the usual. Sorrow and fear, you know," I said.

"Sorrow is just a lonely person," said the phoenix. "Fear is a small child dressed in heavy grown-up's clothes. That's what you need to know."

"Er... thanks. But what do I do?" I said.

"Oh, for goodness' sake!" exclaimed the phoenix. "You're still asking that question? Have you not opened your eyes today?"

And then she sent the shadows off to play.