With Wings Unfolded
Much has fallen away – the medals, the money, the magical thinking turned by the long slow arc to become like old crow who croaked
June 26, 2014
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Much has fallen away – the medals, the money, the magical thinking turned by the long slow arc to become like old crow who croaked
The current carried us far down stream, the ford of our crossing miles back past cliff walls and rock strewn rapids, an impossible return to
We travel on wind driven waves, our color the purple camas rising from the earth then gone, as winter green moss dries in the sun. We
Long ago words were spoken with the sound of trees, the whoosh of leaves, river water rolling stones and crows with lampblack feathers. We would