Things are quiet, the evening cool.
It’s a « new » month. Time to delve back in to this flow of words, set forth day by day.
I’ve been so many places these weeks, on two continents, under rain and shine, in the pounding heart of cities and the soft rustle of dark woods, life and death, so quickly and then it’s all gone, gone, gone.
In the garden tonight, treetops swell lightly and immensity again touches me like a whisper on the cheek.