the cicadas are growing quiet, wings worn and tattered from summer’s symphony, the melody that brings them life. and also death. a refrain pulsed through their dreams as they lay burrowed deep in sleep […]

I don’t breathe easily. But I do try. I sing. I sip tea. I listen to the birds and cicadas. I drink cool water and try to get enough sleep. I walk barefoot in […]

I look up into the tangled tendrils of the willow branches falling around me, their softness and sway on me the way hair falls around a face, on shoulders, and down a bare back. […]