The Door Is Maybe Locked. {poetry}
The door is maybe locked and he is eight. She is waking him up in a different room in the same house, is saying Come to bed, I’m lonely.
Browsing Tag:
summer
Second Spring: Starting a New Cycle Of Expansion.
Second spring is followed by a season of manifestation in second summer, before withdrawing into our second autumn and our final winter.
Different Springs: The World Is a Maze. {poetry}
The world is a maze. There are only intersections when necessary, and the entrances, once entered, vanish.
Embrace the Whole: Summer, Winter, Present, Future.
The dormant fullness of the present can be expanded and further enriched by magnifications of what the cumulative future holds.
The Sexiness in the Heat of Summer. {poetry}
They say the Italian girls have hot blood. Oh, how we rage. Our little bodies a violent ray of heat, we love like we burn… blistering.
Summer’s End. {poetry}
The dragonflies are either fat or pregnant tonight,
or maybe like me,
they’ve stuffed themselves on every summer sparkle
and now they’re drunken...
Bridges to the Next Breath: These Are the Hours.
These are the hours when the light floods everything, until the sunset reminds me that I am dying, that we are all dying, and that now is the time to live.
Grief Is the Salve: Season of the Fallen Flowers.
When we sit with our grief, it creates a canopy of leaves under which we can cry. Our fear is that the grief will overpower us and we’ll drown in our tears.
What I Want Is to Fly Without Fear.
I want my girl to remember what it feels like to fly through the air off that rope swing into the lake, and her squeals of uncensored delight.
Joy Magick and Heathen Delights: The Wilds of the Summer Hags.
Help me move this last stone into place, and let's lie quiet on the mossy earth, silent enough to hear those hags moon-croon us lullabies of magick.