flax-golden

light in the cold Once he considered it a curse. A punishment. Like Sisyphus pushing forever up the mountain, and at least Sisyphus could move. All he could do was stand. Stand in ever-frozen

tattered & tied Someone tied a ribbon on a tree and then someone else tied another. And another and another after that, more people and more ribbons and an ever-growing tangle of color. At

the metal horses Please do not feed the metal horses. No apples or grass. No nuts or bolts or bits of string. They grow overly fond of people who feed them. They will follow

where the sidewalk doesn’t end Would you walk me home? Now, while there is still light? Before the afternoon turns to dusk? The light is fading quickly, so I’ll need an answer soon. Would

angel meditation Please do not disturb the angels in the garden. You will find them sitting in the quiet corners. Contemplating. Listening to the world as it grows. Most weekdays from late morning to

november pumpkins It is a sad thing to be a pumpkin after Hallowe’en. No more light inside. No more chasing away evil spirits. No more revelry. Only the crunch of leaves in fading light