She is not a child.
To have her head in the clouds,
That is not a shame.
This is a drowning world filled with deafening complaints, crying cities, noisy screens, and whispered drama.
This is a dying world consumed by raging fires, destructive waters, intolerable winds, and humans.
She is not immature because she does not react,
nor oblivious because she does not recognize that,
nor ignorant because she does not make a judgement.
She is grown,
And growing with a divergent sense of the world.
She is alive, and grateful to be.
This life is a gift.
We could all be children carefully unwrapping it.