They struck away from her, exploded outward white shards spinning metered in soft mauve, blue-gray, and engendering myriad unique reflections. White pellets they were
shot out from Esme(e) cracking the pale clear sky  awaiting them. Instant's tesserae reverberant patterning vision, white and changing imbrications shell-like from her they set Esme(e) irrevokably apart.
Turning, cloth in folds took her and swathed her not in transformation, for we yet knew her, nor in colors only. Turning, the plum cloth enclosed her and the white birds broke apart that smooth purple pillar, shattered all like the sound of breaking glass.
        I thought the vitreous sky had shattered.
        In a way, it had.
Esme(e) stood turning in 1 fluid move whose inherent power whip-like augmented to destructive force had she not the will, the compassion for us, to constrain it. She stood,
rising up within the meadow a fountain integral and illustrious and white birds struck away from her startled, their wings beating hollow in the stilled air.