Unfurling Grief
she modeled the wintering, the unfurling.
And I know I can stand strong in my winter when it comes.
Fire in the Pit
I write fire.
I fire words.
Words fire me.
Capturing
When I read these words about today months, even years, from now, I’ll remember the places I turned and the spots of shade as I mowed, the flood of unsettling and grounding memories of Mom mowing these yards, and the tissues of my heart fraying and knitting at once knowing how quickly things slowly change. How lucky am I, capturing life’s moments with words?
Take Your Writer Out for a Walk
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