. . .

I start pulling the obvious weeds. Ripping with vigor at the thoughts that won’t leave. I wonder if she liked to garden, on her summers off, brave soul that died protecting her classroom kids. I plunge my hands beneath the dirt, digging up worms and grief. Refugees flood my mind, the yellow and blue of

peace be with you

we talked : mostly about fire and water. but about life. beginning middle end. it was just enough to fill our cups without overflow. although perhaps we did just enough burning to become thirsty again.

after hope

how you carry on after hope spoken: you struggle. you weep. you laugh. then you start. i have never been good at finishing things. not work related things i get those finished for sure, but personal goal things. i paint & hammer. i cut & organize. i disrupt myself for yet ANOTHER great idea. to

chirping, emerg…

chirping, emerging, whistling, discovering, uncovering, replenishing, springing. we have waited, and she is here. welcome, sweet marching through april belonging to may spring, welcome.

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