Winter months are ones for searching, for digging up questions carefully stored to feed on during languid snow-filled hours. I have listened for the prodding; waited by the still, cold morning; slept between volumes of pages. In voices preserved, they have unashamedly examined my very uncertainties.
I am grateful.
But now I feel again the Bloodroot pressing through.
It is time, then, to place these stacks of verse and prose—their waves of philosophies and theologies—back on the farthest shelf. For there is air to breathe and
Living.
3 comments:
As always, gorgeous photography, and how beautiful is your prose? WOW.
But a part of me is sad that the volumes are being tucked away as spring comes. Is there no room for both??
There has to be room for both, and the spaces freed make room for new arrivals.
Awesome use of words and pictures to draw us in. Thanks
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