Beauty
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for good.
Today, a four-year-old told me he was potty-trained. This, reader, was a lie. I didn’t know it til he was fighting for his life on the toilet (eat some fiber, kid), and creating a radioactive atmosphere from the depths of… Continue reading
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a simple musing.
I sit at the creek, its surface holding the sky’s forgetting time drifts like a leaf before me, edges curling, soft with surrender. a sadness floats beneath my ribs, not a wound, but a slow ripple, folding into the quiet,… Continue reading
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the fight.
Dear reader, I don’t know if it goes against the rules of blogging to post more than once in the same day. Guess who has two thumbs and isn’t going to stop me? This guy right here (I’m pointing my… Continue reading
words for the wind 