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You are not the ocean – not the wind that moves across, not the crashing waves, nor the glassy ease as evening falls. You are not the clear blue, the emerald green, the angry gray and white. You are not the silver school of fins spinning in synchronized...
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(Photo Source: HERE.) I am both the sunflower and the seed; both turning toward the light and digging down, deep into darkness. There is not one without the other. Linking with Playdates With...
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What does the bud feel the day before its opening? Deep desire for the light and the anticipation of dancing in the wind. And what of the bud that fails to open, standing closed along-side its star-burst sisters? Maybe she sleeps still, content with the dream of...
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The clever crow places her meal on top of the utility pole at the end of the driveway. The dead bird flops awkwardly on its round, wooden plate. The crow comes and goes, returning as to a buffet, pulling off the tastiest morsels. Standing in the windows we watch,...
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I am the mouse who climbed up the side of the milk pail, intending only to take a sip. Leaning, I slipped, and landed in a sea of creamy white. I am drowning now in this moment of sweetness. There is no option left, but to surrender to its delight. Photo...
