The days I really delve into the writing aren’t right. I feel wrong and rightfully whole and as though I am manifesting a hole onto an area (now a visible orb). I feel destroyed and weak and deliberate upon deleting my person.
Until the berries ripen more the final ripest fell from the bush. She landed within the tall grass and soon into the warm hand of a young woman. She was a lovely fruit half ripened with systemic hatred and the other with sun. She would smile and rise above and her past was present in her lack of ability to like a hug. When she left, her departure was felt within the tumbleweeds and called them home to mourn her loss and to celebrate the great gathering. The creator has some good energy returned. I will forever miss the elder huckleberry who kindly reminded me of things.
Some pinkened plantlife.
Not so tart crabapples and the time I spent with them upon the equinox. Sweeping and picking and sorting and soaking. Finally… juicing and preserving in the form of sauce!
A piece of Seattle meets a rural sky. An apartment warming gift to my sister from me.
The rising of the moon upon 9/11/2014.