Waking to write, and watch Jack Frost work his winter touch.
In Nature we see there is no story, that every legend, fable, myth is desperate.
Sometimes I wake up hopeful in the morning.
My people call...
Flashcards. New schema for new territory.
After the musk and scent of sweat and desperate breath...
Somedays you either laugh or cry unintentionally.
The lull of Salish swaying below me.
I live in a beautiful little corner on the blue planet.