of self love, vulnerability, and of course, donkeys
The methodical practice ofPatience as a perpetualPatient of unpaved pathsOnly (maybe) psuedo-exploredOff the main bodies of rare diseaseIs a skill I've sought elsewhereIn much pleasurable ways. Though I suppose it's throughThorns, muck, and solitudeThat patience gains a differentPersona; a parental, oldWise one in the woods withStrength not in spite of butBecause of broken branches.
“Enough pails of water—a river.”-Ancient Proverb Because it’s been ages, I ventured beyond the borders of my own few-mile space in an effort to reconnect with something resembling a world bigger than my own. I stayed outside 1) because COVID cases are surging and 2) because we have a rare blip of goldilocks perfection on... Continue Reading →
I know of a shore that harbors magic: an old, forgotten magic that lies dormant beneath the rocks and pebbles of all shades and sizes. They sit atop the sand at least two feet deep and two miles long. In my memory, I return there often. The Atlantic whips the coast with salty daggers and... Continue Reading →
It’s dark out which by no means means it is late. No. We have entered that time of year where the sun falls at 4:30PM forcing the chickens, ducks, donkeys, dogs, and heck even myself into an earlier, Pavlovian need to eat and bunk down for the night hours before they (we) otherwise should. I’m... Continue Reading →
It’s a typical late-Texas summer on an early, weekday afternoon where leaves hang completely still from the treetops. The chickens have dug small holes outside of their coop in which to rest (the dirt beneath the surface being much cooler than anywhere else they may find) while the ducks drift gently in their pond with... Continue Reading →
