Thanks-giving.
December, Diciembre turned the page with a storm battering windows in the night. But in it I saw the Moonlight framed in cedar monoliths, Laughter rising above our heads like the steam circling upward into the cedar boughs; words of love hope fear worry reflection connection, building and weaving a web stronger than our words and arms, the silent lake standing witness to our communion and our melancholies, Blues poems written into the pages we hold folded at our chestsRead More