No trace remains of that day of clay and crayons of chalk and chewing gum, of sweaty palms and swollen self-consciousness No trace except for two dry red prints set on stark white parchment, silently declaring an intention to witness, and better still, to be witnessed Stashed away beneath bobbins and musty magazines, ten delicate… Continue reading Digits
I wonder. About that particular ceramic tile, the one among many decorating that fireplace in that particular country inn on a particular hill a bit on past the library in a certain village in New Hampshire I wonder. About the man (I guess) who set that tile, the one among many decorating that fireplace whether… Continue reading in particular
Golden Mother guards, wipes, sings, feeds and holds she glows in the early morning sun. Crimson Mother teaches, cleans, cheers, totes and scolds she wafts from the scent in every summer rose. Chartreuse Mother counsels, waits, shares, cries and believes she hums in your ear during a chance afternoon pause. Violet Mother watches, worries, heals,… Continue reading Rainbow Mother
Three children run in circles under the warm shade of an oak tree too tall to soften the searing heat. Bare feet clap with the cool grass -- earth worms piously churn the soil to renew the wet skin of Nature. Three children careless of the perspiration bleeding through their pores, and heedless of the… Continue reading Picket Fences
A friend recently asked me about Time.
Dani's Healing 