Every morning I walk to the river in the velveteen hour between the vanishing blue night and the coming of the first scarlet, pink, lavender, purple or golden ribbons that stretch across the horizon. Sometimes clouds with heavy gray eyelids… Read More ›
When the Cranes Come I remember who I am – A woman with wings. When the Cranes Come I listen with rapt attention I am a woman with wings. When the Cranes Come I am pulled into a primordial field… Read More ›
Departure. I stood deep in a toad hole slinging mud at twilight when the sky turned lemon and gold. They arced over my head in pairs, loose aggregations – it seemed like thousands crying out, crossing the river. Ensouled. Spirits… Read More ›
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