the ancestors always pass down gifts—just open your hand and trust the natural world. – “You’re here… again?” “If you ain’t realized by now, we
It was by the afternoon when I knew what this all meant. It meant another half-summer of tubes into my nose and wires set on
My garden pond is filled with life and promises. It is an oasis where the kindness of soft and fluid beauty Extends a hand. I
Sometimes stardust is the enemy, Smothering us in unrealizable desires, Turning our imaginations into mere fantasy, Beckoning us toward realms that we need not enter.
The snow covered the ground Like a giant sleeping polar bear. So soft and welcoming Yet it could rip your toes, fingers or nose off