Beauty at the edge of desolation
Shoulders sagging from the weight of grief, face bathed in glorious shades of red, my feet navigated the well-worn path from memory.
Slow and mournful steps trudged past maples, oaks, spruces, and firs. Squirrels and chipmunks scurried along branches, chattering to one another. A blue jay swooped across my path, a cardinal hot on its tail. My…