ancient

this, a small gesture, a witness to heavy chamomile air before homecoming. spring and autumn in sacred geometry. our shoulders, arms, dusks covered with grandma’s linen harboring a stray wind. and the dew storm.. does each ache evanesce into ether, scattering the beauty of tears to slow chanting of what is unsung? river windows reflect crystal skies from the mirth of embracing seasons we’ve become

 

0_1728b_f491f10c_-1-orig_phixr

Advertisements