We are getting older. Leaves are still falling. Oaks with their thousand years cut short lie in pieces in the field, replacing gold and green with grey. The roses curl their leaves in on themselves, and their hips are theRead more…
Grinding her teeth
The Goddess of Flowers is grinding her teeth. Softly luminous, tethered to a million fetal pieces of spring She is clenching her fists. Birth pains ~ maybe. And a hatred of the bare, twisted branches she is trying not toRead more…