…I hold secrets. I hold them all silently but that has taken years… years in which they never uttered a sound. But they pressed..,
Category: writing habit
Mid-August
Pileated woodpeckers and trees brushed with the first swash of gold…I luxuriate my mind in the subtleties of nature’s changes.
A Big Breath
I lost myself among the bigness of a river, of centuries old trees and a Great Lake. I felt absorbed into a speck. And I breathed…
